White Blank Page
by beavoicenotanecho
Summary: They say that your Imprint is designed for you in every single way. Paul doesn't believe this or the fact that Bella Swan is his Imprint. Watch as these two seemingly ill-matched, but fated persons struggle with the ties that bind them together.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a new story, or idea I should say, that kind of just popped into my head, and I decided to share it in hopes that I could get some feed back. It's fairly new, and I would really appreciate if you reviewed and told me whether you wanted to see this grow into a multi-chapter piece. **

**So just as a warning this is a darker take on the Imprint that is loaded with angst...so if you were expecting unicorns and rainbows and fluff, I don't suggest that you read my story, unless you feel so inclined.**

**Summary: ****They say the imprint is designed for you in every single way; that they're meant for you. According to Paul that cannot be true because there is no way that Bella Swan is his imprint.**

**Read and review!**

**Disclaimer: All that jazz (characters, settings, etc.) belong to S.M. I am just borrowing. **

**White Blank Page**

**Chapter One: That's how you're going to play it, huh?**

I hated shopping, really I did.

It was so painful, going from store to store, trying to find something that would fit me. Hide me. Something like that. But what was even more painful was the reason why I was venturing into the humid and overcrowded place that was La Push's nearest mall. Tomorrow was the first day of school, of my senior year, that is. Truthfully I wasn't that excited, not really. I wasn't fawning over this year like my mother was and every whore-bag on our reservation. I wasn't thinking about how exciting it was that it was _senior_ year. Because, really, who gave a flying fuck?

This year would be like every other one: same shit different day. I would walk down the same hallways; watch the same pretty girls fawn over the moderately handsome guys, hear the hurtful words fall from those very couple's lips as I passed by. I didn't need to give this year a title, it was senior year, the last year they all had together. La-Dee-Fucking-Da.

However, my mother was obsessed with shit like this. The whole senior year thing was what she considered to be a big bench mark of my teenage life. She was obsessed with those bench marks, if you will. My mother loved to experience life, from the small clichéd moments, to the great ones that carved out who you were. She firmly believed that life was not about _finding_ who you were, but rather, _creating_ yourself.

Some pretty profound shit, huh?

Yeah. My mom was loaded with sayings like that. In fact they covered every surface possible of our house: over door frames, on walls, above the sink in the bathroom. You name it, a corny saying was there.

Sighing I push through the racks of clothing, listening to the faint sound of the metal hook of the hanger scrape against the metal bar of the rack. I wince when there is a particularly loud screech, of metal greeting metal, and pray that nobody has noticed. The last thing I needed once one of those over-eager store personnel coming over and asking if I needed help with anything.

I had no such luck and heard that voice, lacquered with a sickly sweetness and fake happiness, "May I help you with anything?"

I am attempted to snap that yes, yes I do need help. I want to tell the sales lady or whoever has bothered to pester me that I need them to start selling jeans in size fourteen in their store. But I hold my tongue, and glance up, smiling tightly as I shake my head.

The person who has come to assist me can't be much older than me, but she is definitely smaller than me. It seems like everyone is smaller than me, and I sometimes wonder if I'll always feel this _big_. I know that I am not as big as I feel but I can't help but feel big when I see girls like her: with a slim waist, dainty hands, and a lean body that guys drool over.

Sighing internally I promise to go on a longer run tonight, and turn my attention to the neatly folded tops. I let my eyes slide over them, touching the soft fabrics. I turn away, not seeing anything that would do any favors to my body type and head towards the exit.

I walk out into the not-so-fresh mall air, and let the crowd carry me as I walk through the mall. I clutch my bag a little closer as I see a bunch of girls from school up ahead, and I curse fate when I draw nearer. I keep my eyes cast down and pretend that I don't hear them snicker as I walk by. I hurry towards the exit of the mall, and breathe a sigh of relief when I break through and reach fresh air.

It is warm out, and the distinct smell of hot ash fault permeates the air. Taking a deep breath, I cut through the parking lot, headed for home. I am once again reminded how much I miss my red truck, Bessie, when my feet begin to complain. The soles of my feat are tender after walking just about everywhere for the past couple of days, and I curse Bessie for her unreliable nature and putting me in this position.

I was told that it would be finished by tomorrow; that Bessie would be good as new, but I had my doubts. My dad had enlisted the skills of a family friend, a guy from my school—Paul. I didn't know much of Paul, other than the fact that who always had a scowl firmly in place and was constantly looking for a fight.

I try not to judge, or separate people by the little information that the high school hallways have provided, but how can I not separate people? It was made so easy for me with the cliques and social circles that were set in stone. To me, the break down was relatively simple. You had the kids who liked to party and drinkers, then you had the well rounded Reservation boys, that being Sam Uley and his ever growing fan base, Paul included. Then you had the perky-sorority-sisters-in-training-bitches, and the list goes on, dwindling into the loners, namely people like me.

It was unfortunate to see Paul fall into Sam's little pack of lost boys. Especially for a guy like Paul who seemed to have more than enough back bone and confidence. It was scary, watching guys of all ages fall into to step beside Sam with that look in their eyes and that way about them—defeat. Yes, I watched.

But not like a stalker or anything. Just, well, I didn't really have friends. I mean sure I had people that I could smile at in the hallways or whatever but that was about it. Plus, really, I didn't need friends. I didn't need anyone—get too attached and you'll end up getting hurt.

Anyway, I didn't know how it happened but guys had been slowly starting to mingle with Sam for the past couple of weeks consistently. Part of me felt curious, wanting to know exactly how Sam did it, but then another part of me—the smarter part—knew to let it alone. Sam Uley walked in the shade of secrets and who was I to shine the light on things? No one. I was no one.

I tucked my lower lip into my mouth, as I let the though slither down my spine. I sometimes wondered if it was true, and it would be according to my peers at high school. They knew who I was, and part of me was resentful of that. Life would be so much easier if I wasn't Chubby Cheeks Swan to them.

But a label didn't define me; a cruel nick name did not make or break me.

I found myself just two houses away from my own after thirty minutes and was ready to relax just for a few minutes. I walked past my neighbor's house—Embry, one of Sam Uley's cronies—and ignored the painful protests of my feet. I was walking up my own pathway, eyes cast down and my head in anywhere but the present when I stumbled.

The ground tilted at a sickening angle as it rushed up to meet me, and I hear my own shriek as well as a sharp curse coming from behind me. I hit the ground, rolling over to see the glaring sun. I clenched my eyes shut and did one of those ten second assessments: limbs attached, check, broken bones, none, bruising—definitely.

"What are you, fucking retarded?" a cruel voice spat. The acidic words burned through me, crawling under my skin as I laid there like a fool.

I scrambled for response, settling on silence as I pushed myself up off the ground. I felt anger course through me as I thought about what had happened—I had fallen over what I thought to be something not _someone_.

I glared at the legs coming from underneath, Bessie—my truck. So that's what I had tripped over, and this asshole was calling me retarded? I bristled at the thought and snapped, "Fuck you! You're the one in _my_ drive way with your legs hanging out like an accident waiting to happen, and _you're_ yelling at me? _You're_the fuck-tard between the two of us, you ass-hat!

The bronze legs slowly grew before my eyes as they slid further out from underneath Bessie and I couldn't help but notice that this guy under my truck did indeed have nice legs: long, powerful looking with the toned, trim muscles that looked like they should be modeling or something. I dismissed the thought reminding myself of not only the fact that said legs had tripped me, but who they were attached to—Paul, also known as crony number six of Sam's little troop.

I jutted my chin out, hands on my round—too soft, too round hips—as Paul wheeled himself out from under Bessie. His face was finally visible, sharp and edgy with his anger, and I felt a little bit of fear swell up inside. I nibbled on my lower lip, sinking my teeth into it repeatedly.

"Fuck off, who's doing who the favor—" Paul snapped when he saw me, but his angered tone died off once he made proper eye contact. He just stared at me blankly for a moment before blinking back into awareness with a haggard breath.

I scowled at him, and felt my eyes widen in surprise when I caught his gaze—but more importantly what was there. Paul looked at me with frightened eyes, disgusted, horrified almost, and my gut clenched painfully, the nerves twisting my stomach in their vice grip. What had I done? Did I really look that bad? Why was he looking at me like that? He had paled considerably, and he rushed to get up—smacking his head on the lip of the truck's bumper. He cursed again, but got up, scrambling away from the truck.

"Are you okay?" I asked nervously, trying not to let my eyes wander, but how could I not? Paul was huge—he was tall, super tall, towering over my pitiful stature of 5'5. But it wasn't just his height that made me drool, he had broad shoulders, and he was wearing a plaid shirt open, displaying a tone muscled chest that had me blinking in surprise. He was hot, but it was his face that tied the package together: tall cheek bones, soft looking and perfectly shaped lips and deep, almost black eyes.

Paul remained silent for a while and clenched his jaw tightly, asking, "I'm fine. Can I work on this later?" By this I assumed he meant my truck, and I nodded watching as he ran a trembling hand through his wavy hair—it just brushed the collar of his shirt, just a little—and I replied, "Sure, whatever."

Paul nodded, looking scattered as he walked away from me.

I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach, tried to ignore the weight of reality as my stomach hit the floor at my feet and my heart swelled up, choking me. What had I done? Paul had given me this look, like I was a monster. I swallowed thickly, trying not to think about it too much. But how could I not?

I pushed back my tears of anger—yes, I cried when I was angry, and I fucking hated it. I clomped up the steps and pushed my way through the front door. I dashed up the stairs, headed for my bedroom. I made a bee line for it and slammed my door shut, resting against it.

I felt the hot tears running down my cheeks, and I resented them. I wiped them away roughly, hating the feel of the soft, fullness of my cheek. I walked over to my mirror and stared at myself. I saw the look in Paul's eyes and understood why he had looked at me the way he had.

_Look_ _at_ _me_, I spat inwardly. I wasn't stupid; I understood why he looked at me that way. I wouldn't even want me with my thick thighs and wide rounded hips, my chubby stomach and chubby cheeks. I blinked at my reflection and knew that I wasn't beautiful. I wasn't stupid, and I refused to be fooled other wise. I wasn't pretty, I wasn't beautiful, I wasn't anything like that. It was clear as it always had been.

I knew I wasn't beautiful and I had accepted that. I wouldn't fool myself into thinking that I was beautiful in my own way, that I was one of those—how had my mother put it, ah, yes, a _wholesome_ beauty. Yeah wholesome my ass, my mother had to say shit like that.

My lower lip trembled in the mirror, and I was hit with the same thoughts that always flew around in my mind when I had one my moments in front of my bedroom mirror. It didn't matter that I was smart, it didn't matter one bit that I was funny or witty, all that mattered was what people saw. I was not pretty by any standard, and I knew it.

That's why I didn't blame Paul, who could?

I sat on my bed, picking at the loose thread there, feeling a sob building. I kept my mouth shut, quiet, always quiet. I felt it swell and swell and swell and then it burst, ripping its way through my silent lips. I gasped for breath, and let it all out—a shuddering, heaving, gasping mess.

I wiped my eyes, walked back over to my mirror, taking in my blotchy face and red rimmed eyes as I vowed, "Never again."

I said that myself last time, and I could only hope that this promise could be held. But it was like a dam, holding it all back, and then it would break leaving me to drown in it all. I steeled my spine, holding my own gaze as I murmured, "Never."

**P ~ B**

The high school hallways were looking equally sterile as they were forgiving from last year. I sigh as I stop at my locker, fiddling with my lock. I feel eyes on me, but try to ignore the weight of the stares as they seem to settle on my shoulders. I don't know why people do that. I mean, why the fuck did they do it? I hadn't magically lost weight, and there was no need to reevaluate how I looked every time they saw me. I looked the same: round face, full cheeks, round and not at all flat stomach, soft hips with lots of padding, and equally padded legs.

I mean, unless you had amnesia, I am kind of hard to forget. I'm not huge or anything, I am a seize fourteen, but I am one of the few size fourteen girls on the La Push reservation. But I guess my peers get some sick pleasure in seeing me the same, a constant, that way they can recycle insults, maybe even trade some. It'll be a good ole' time. Great bonding session.

I put up the minimal decorations I have up on my locker door: a white board with a faded black marker that I write with (on the white board of course), a little basket thing for some spare pens, and a pad of paper that has a little magnet on the back. Now, it may seem redundant to have both a whiteboard and a pad of paper hanging up in my locker, but on the pad of paper, in every bottom-right-hand corner I had written a number. These numbers counted down until I could leave this hell-hole.

There were too many days left for my liking.

I couldn't wait to escape from this bum-fuck of a town, cut through all the bull shit and just escape. I didn't want to stay in the same town and get the same pitying, or, oh, my favorite, condescending stares for the rest of my life. Fuck that shit; I was going to make something for myself, of myself, in the real world where I didn't have to watch pretty bitches win at everything because they were popular because they were pretty.

I slammed my locker door shut, and whirled around, knocking into some girl.

"Watch where you're going fat-ass!" She hissed, curling her upper lip at me.

I just narrowed my eyes, "Piss off."

I could take it on a good day, but today was certainly not a good day.

She just gapes at me and I roll my eyes, pushing past her as I make my way down the hallway. I keep my head down, and walk speedy-quick, wanting to escape the eyes that followed me. I slip into my first period, my 'home room'. I always wondered why they called it your home room, I mean, I did and I didn't. I wouldn't say being trapped in a room with my peers for an extended period of time was my home. Personally, I opted for something a little more suitable: purgatory.

I pick a seat at the back, this way I could watch and abstain from being watched. I allow my bag to thump to the floor beside the crappy desk as I sit down on its partner—the equally crappy chair. I pull out my book and begin to read, getting lost in the world of paper and print.

I glance up from my book when I hear catty giggles and roll my eyes as a handful of Future Sorority Sister Bitches breeze through the door way. I return to my book, but am interrupted again when some kid's back-pack knocks into my desk, the teeth of the zipper scratch their greeting as they run along my desk. I feel my lip curl into a sneer until I see who the back pack belongs to—Embry.

I glance up at him questions raising with my stare as look him over. He seemed to be just as big and muscular as every other one of Sam's followers, but not as tall or built as Paul, and I wondered if Sam was doping them up on some steroids. That would explain their size. I watch as he plops down into the seat next to me, and it takes all I can not to ask him why he follows Sam around so obediently. Instead, I take in a deep breath, feeling the questions settle as I turn my attention back to my book.

You know that feeling you get when you're being watched? I _hated_that stupid sensation. I was getting it right now, and my eyes slid from the page to my left, where Embry, quite obviously was staring at me. I scowled, snapping, "May I help you?"

Embry just smirks, shaking his head, like he knows the meaning of life or some shit. I huff out a sigh and close my book just as the teacher enters the class room. I watch as girls slip off the desks they had been sitting on, and slip into their chairs, sharing glances as they do so. I roll my eyes inwardly, and mentally compel the teacher to start doing his job already and teach.

I was feeling unusually angry today, my wit holding a little bit more bite to it. I knew why though, it was the first day of school. I hated it. I hated walking through the halls, seeing the same faces, the same looks, the same _everything_. Everyday was an exercise in frustration between stupid girls and Future Sorority Sister Bitches and guys who only saw what they wanted to, no _needed_ to.

I listened as my teacher, Mr. Hodge droned on and on about the exciting semester ahead of us. I wondered if he truly believed that his course, History, was truly that exciting. I mean, I was here because part of me liked History, but at the same time I knew I was good at it, which made for a good mark, which always looked good on an application for University.

I paid minimal attention throughout my teacher's class and was more than thankful when he uttered those lovely words that every student loved to hear, "That's all we have time for today, class, see you tomorrow."

I stand and grab my bag in one swift movement, loosing my balance and leaning too far over, on the brink of a stumble. But Embry catches my elbow, and murmurs, "Careful there, wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

I jerk my elbow out of his grasp, "Thanks."

My 'thanks' is sharp and edgy as it passes through my lips, no doubt in response to his creepy words. Wouldn't want anything happening to _me_? What the hell? The way he says it chills my bones, rattling them as I shrug my back pack onto my shoulder. Scurrying down the aisle between the columns desks and out the door I try to push the panicky feeling I have in my gut away. I breathe a sigh of relief as I move with the crowd of students, falling into step, blending, disappearing.

But I am not as invisible as I think I am and my gaze gets caught by none other than Sam Uley. He is passing through the crowd, opposite of the flow, like a salmon swimming up stream, and I frown, watching as two other guys follow him. He holds my stare, his gaze scrutinizing. I drop his it quickly, focusing my attention on more important things, like the dandruff on the girls head in front of me.

I segue to my locker, placing my newly acquired text book from Mr. Hodge inside. I lock my locker and turn away from it joining the crowd again. I come to Stairway A and slip through the doors climbing the steps. I make it to the English room, and plan to sit at the back, but there is one minor problem.

There is only one seat left at the back, right between Paul and a Future Sorority Sister Bitch. I glance around at the rest of the class room and see a couple lonely desks scattered through the middle, and a shit load at the front. I worry my lower lip before walking the aisle between two columns of desks, slowing at the middle, considering sitting there, before plowing on and taking the last available seat at the back. I keep my eyes trained on the front, on anything but the beast of a teenage boy next to me.

I try not to think about the way that he looked at me the other day, but it all comes back, clogging my mind till it's all I can think about. I feel the anxiety swell, choking me as I cross my arms over my torso, trying to hide the chubby stomach, but I know I can't and it's a moot point. But that doesn't stop me from trying.

Future Sorority Sister Bitch, F.S.S.B for short, makes this noise, and I glance over at her to find her sneering at me, "Excuse me, but that seat you're like sitting in was for my friend, I promised I'd like, you know, save her a seat."

But I didn't know, because frankly I didn't really ever, under any circumstance have someone save a seat for me, or save a seat for someone. I just stare back at F.S.S.B and drawl dryly, "That's like nice."

I hear a deep chuckle coming from beside me, and I think it is Paul who is laughing, but I don't look to verify. Instead I turn my attention to the rest of the class, and try to ignore F.S.S.B's sounds of displeasure. I didn't really care if this seat was for her friend, because frankly I didn't give a shit. She should have done a better job 'saving' it.

The teacher walks in spouting off greetings to the class and asking how our summer was. That gained a few shout outs, one of them quite loud as the owner of the boisterous voice shouted, "Not long enough!"

That earned a couple chuckles and giggles but I kept quiet. I listened as the teacher discussed the year's prospects from projects to the literature we would be reading. It was about half way through the class that I grew bored and let my thoughts drift.

Immediately my thoughts were drawn back to the other day and Paul's look he gave me. The damn near disgust there in his eyes seeped under my skin, making it crawl as I tried to focus on my teacher's voice. But I couldn't, now with Paul sitting right next to me. I glanced around me, looking at all the small, slim and trim, _normal_, girls around me. My heart clenched, and I damned my father for his poor genetics that he passed down to me. I took in a deep breath, sighing with resigned acceptance. I gazed down at my chubby hands, and curled them into fists.

I closed my eyes, pushing all the thoughts away and was more than thankful when I heard the teacher dismiss us. I got up, grabbed my bag and fled from the room, the strong desire to abandon the painful reminder that was Paul urged my feet to move faster.

I dump my things in my locker and head off to my next class. I make my way through the hallways and arrive at my class early, only one person in the class as of yet. I immediately recognize the hulking figure as Paul, and my stomach drops to the floor. He glances up at me, a scowl firmly set on his handsome face. I hold his stare long enough to recognize the anger and pure disappointment before looking away. I walk in the class shaking like a leaf. What had I done to deserve such a stare? The anger? The disappointment? I didn't know. I hadn't done anything to my knowledge that warranted such a reaction.

I slipped into a seat at the back, far away from Paul as I could get. At this point, it wasn't far enough. The way he looked at me seemed to reach in and breathe life into all my insecurities. I wished they would lay dormant, leave me be. Unfortunately they wouldn't and their voices seemed loud, screaming at me. I shuddered, bit down on my lower lip, trying to distract myself from the insecurities pilling up, filling me up. I feel sick, like someone is cutting the power.

I see our teacher enter the classroom and I ask to be excused, sprinting my way to the washroom having claimed illness. I burst into the girl's washroom and slip into a stall. I plunk down onto the seat and press my forehead on the cold wall of the stall, staving off the nausea.

All of a sudden my trachea has seemed to shrink and I gasp for air, the short breaths seeming to make it worse. I feel a sweat break out across my brow, and it only makes it worse. I feel sick to my stomach, the dizziness not helping at all. I recognize panic running through me, flooding my lungs. My chest begins to ache as I glance around the stall, my hyperventilating breaths seeming unreal. It's like I am not even here. My trembling hands are slick with a cold sweat and I feel like I am going to die.

_This_ _is_ _it_, I think, _right_ _now_, _right here, I am going to die right in the middle of the girl's washroom, all by myself. _

I try to suck in a deep breath but it doesn't work. I know that if I don't stop this I am going to die, surely I will. I am screaming on the inside, trying to relax, trying to make it stop, just fucking stop already.

I try to calm down, ordering my body to stop. I am really hoping that this mind over matter shit is going to work, because if it doesn't I am shit out of luck. I hear someone calling to me, telling me to breathe but I can't. The voice is panicking now as well, screaming at me for to breathe in deeply. I try, and I do. I realize it's my own voice, inside my head that is coaching me. I take in more air, and slowly the tension lessens. The pain in my chest isn't so bad as before and I order myself to stop. To stop whatever the hell is still going on.

I focus on my breathing, trying to slow it. It seems to be setting in, working and a feeling of joyous relief sweeps through me. I finally make the slow, delicious climb back to normalcy. I rest there in the stall for a moment, and it is with a surprisingly confident clarity that I think, _I just had a panic attack_.

The thought lands a brick in my stomach and I press my hand to my forehead, muttering a low, quiet, "Shit."

My hands are trembling as I undo the simple latch on the stall.

My knees are wobbly as I walk over to the sink.

My eyes are watery as I dry my hands.

My stomach is clenching nervously, painfully, as I approach the class room.

I keep my eyes on the floor as I walk into the classroom. If anyone is suspicious of my absence they don't show it. Everyone but Paul. He looks at me with these curious eyes, his head cocked to the side. I drop my eyes to the floor again quickly because I don't need another panic attack. I make it to my seat safely and settle into it. I plant my hands on the desk, folding them in hopes of stopping their trembling dance.

My hands still shake as a copy notes down.

My stomach still clenches nervously as I pack up my things.

My eyes are still watery as I pass by Paul as I leave the classroom.

Would it stop?

Or was this just the beginning?

**P **~** B**

I sit in the cafeteria munching the lunch I packed for myself. I still feel somewhat shaken from my incident but at least the trembling has stopped. I am scared though, the attack came quickly and seemingly out of nowhere. But it was more frightening to think that the root cause of it might be Paul. I would like to think that it wasn't, that no one could influence me that way, but the only way that theory could be feasible would be that my attack was caused by the stress of my first day. But it was just that, there really was no stress that came with the first day, and I hadn't even been thinking about it being the first day when the attack happened.

I had been thinking about Paul, more specifically the look he gave me. The look he gave me made me feel so…ugly. It reaffirmed everything I thought about myself. I knew I wasn't pretty, and I don't say that as a whine or complaint. It was simply a fact. I wasn't pretty or beautiful or anything like that. The best I had ever heard from the opposite sex was that I looked 'nice'.

Even though all those things were true, I never really focused on them. I never felt the need to pity myself and say, 'Whoa is me!', because it was completely and utterly unnecessary. There were girls far worse off than I was; who had made their weight problems the centre of their worlds. I didn't have an issue with my weight, really I didn't, I more so had an issue with how I was treated, or perceived _because_ of my weight.

It bothered me to no end that because of my weight that boys in general saw me differently. I could see the automatic judgment in their eyes; I was a friend to them right away and nothing more, if they ever bothered to get to know me as a friend. Still, it didn't matter; they never even let themselves see me as something more than just a friend.

Whatever, it wasn't like a _needed_ a boyfriend or anything. It would just be nice to know what it felt like to actually be _liked_ by a guy. I hoped that when I got into University I'd meet someone who didn't immediately put me into the 'friend-zone' and maybe actually see me as more than just that, a friend. I mean, I wasn't going to lie. I wanted to know what it felt like to be a _girlfriend_, not a friend that was a girl. It seemed so typical, so juvenile, but I just wanted to know.

I bite in to my carrot stick, the _snap_ sound pleasing to my ears. I turn the page in my book before glancing up quickly, sensing that someone was watching me. I narrow my eyes immediately—it was Paul. Fuck me sideways, would he just leave me alone and stop staring at me?

It felt like a noose was wrapped around my throat and it was slowly tightening the longer I held Paul's stare. The disgust and disappointment I found there made me want to crawl into a whole and never come out. Not wanting to induce another panic attack I looked away, feeling pinpricks poking at the back of my eyes.

Normally I could handle all of this.

Normally when guys were being assholes I would tell them to stick it where the sun doesn't shine.

But today wasn't normal by any of my definitions.

Paul wasn't normal.

How he made me feel wasn't normal.

Anger surged through me at the recognition of the way he was making me feel. I felt so tiny and weak and worthless and ugly and fat and vulnerable under his stare. It rushed through me, and I clenched my hands into fists. No one had the right to make me feel this way. No one. Not one of the dip shits I was surrounded by everyday here at high school. The F.S.S.B didn't have the right and Paul certainly didn't.

With a scowl to rival Paul's set firmly on my face, I lift my gaze, but my little burst of courage was too little too late and Paul wasn't looking at me. Instead I was faced with the back of his head. I glared at him anyway, and if looks could kill Paul would be a pile of ash by now. I returned to my book and tried to calm myself down. The anger simmered and clamed itself but it was still there inside, a fuse waiting to be lit.

I glance at the clock and pull out my schedule to see where my next class is. I put my schedule back in my bag once I know where I am going and decide to make my way to class even though there is still about ten minutes left.

I am walking down the hallway headed for Art class, the sound of my Converse squeaking against the tiles the only noise I can hear until I round the corner to my left. I hear two voices, one commanding and the other petulant. At first I thought it was a student bickering with a teacher, but I was proved wrong when I slowly inched my way closer, peeking out from my post at the corner.

I see Paul and Sam Uley arguing rather heatedly. Frowning I move a bit closer, my ears straining to pick up any of their conversation.

"That's easy for you to say, Sam! You've got Emily to look forward to and I've got her! She's not my type at all! It's unfair that I get stuck with her for the rest of my life!" Paul complains, his voice getting louder as he went on.

I hear something like a growl, and my eyes widen, trying to assure myself that it didn't come from one of the two arguing boys. Instead of trying to solve the growling mystery I latch on to Sam's reply.

"You're right Paul, it isn't fair. It isn't fair to _her_. You're punishing her because of standard that you have and let me tell you something, keep this attitude up and you will be punished, Paul. I feel sorry for Swan right now because _she_ is going to be stuck with _you_."

My heart hammers in my ears and I am sure that Sam Uley did not just say my name. I chalk it up to my over active imagination and unreliable ears. Sam didn't say my name. Impossible. What business would I have with Paul if that were the case? Stuck with him?

No.

Sam _did_ _not_ say my name.

It's been decided, but I still have this uneasy feeling swelling up inside. It churns in my stomach and I try not to let the words get to me because if Sam did say my name, that meant that Paul was disgusted with me as I thought he was.

I feel the burn at the back of my eyes and I try to blink back the tears. I swallow around the lump in my throat and begin to slowly retreat when everything goes quiet in the hallway. They are no longer talking, it's like they're waiting for something. Holding my breath I slowly move away until I bang into a row of lockers. I mutter a low, "Fuck."

The shrill sound of the warning bell sounds and kids flood into the hallway, but not fast enough as Paul has just rounded the corner. He catches me against the lockers, his eyes full of anger. I feel a twinge of fear pinch my belly and I join the crowd dropping his gaze just as I get lost in the crowd.

But it doesn't matter.

He knows I was listening.

I've been caught red-handed.

But I don't care because I've got bigger things to think about, like why Paul is going to be stuck with _me_ of all people?

**P ~ B**

I roughly knead my clay, twisting and turning it just like the teacher said. Art class was my one reprieve because it was a time when I could just turn my brain off and work. But my brain was having a hard time finding the off button today and wouldn't shut the hell up.

I couldn't get over what I had heard.

What the hell had they been talking about? What could Sam and Paul be involved in that I was somehow stuck with Paul? I gritted my teeth against the thought of being around Paul for more than a couple of classes and decided that I would leave this where it was. Something told me that the saying, 'curiosity killed the cat' definitely applied to me right about now and I, unlike cats, didn't have nine lives to spare.

I had a funny feeling that whatever the hell Sam and Paul had been talking about was best left alone. I mean, I could have heard wrong anyways. There really is no need to get too worked up about it. But Paul gave me that look, that one look that told me I had heard something that wasn't meant for my ears. This would, in theory, suggest that my name had indeed been uttered.

"Bella we want to knead the clay just until ready for molding, not beyond recognition," My Art teacher Mrs. Windsor quipped, patting my hands that had attacked the poor mound of clay.

I nod sheepishly and begin to mold my clay as my teacher smartly advised. But even that doesn't distract me. It's like Paul is the water I get in my ears after I go swimming, and no matter how much head shaking and slapping I do, the water won't get the fuck out of my ears. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath trying to focus on the soft clay beneath my hands that looks nothing like the vase I want it to.

Paul had officially ruined Art class.

Asshole.

Now I feel like a bitch, because it doesn't _have_ to be Paul's fault. If I stopped being such a _girl_ and banished all thoughts of Paul from my mind then I wouldn't be cursing him. I shouldn't let him get to me, but part of me was also scared of him and the reactions he seemed to get out of me. But not anymore.

I have decided that I will not let Paul affect me, not at all. I refuse to care for his dirty looks or weird secret conversations. I can not and will not let him bother me. I just had to keep that in mind every time I got one of his glares or saw him.

After my little pep talk (you'll find it above) Art class went relatively smoothly, though that can't really be said for my vase. It wasn't smooth at all. Hey, I said Art class was an outlet, not a passion that I was good at. Because truthfully, I'm lucky if I can draw a straight line with a ruler—which is why I always dread the sketching part of the curriculum when the time comes.

I left the Art Room, wiping my damp hands (having washed them in the Art Room sink) on my pants I startle when I see Paul leaning on the row of lockers opposite me. I move to walk by, chanting my thoughts from my pep talk until I feel a hot hand grab my arm. I jump, yanking my elbow out of Paul's abnormally warm hand that sends tingles all up and down my arm.

"Sorry," Paul mutters, shoving his hand in his pocket, taking a step back from me.'

"Whatever." Is my intelligent reply. I would have had a sarcastic remark to put him in his place for manhandling me instead of calling my name and stopping me that way, but I was too distracted by the tingles.

It's quiet for a couple of beats as I wait for him to say what he needed to say whatever he needed to say, ergo him stopping me, but he doesn't. I begin to turn away, and I gain two steps of solid school hallway before Paul seems to snap out of it and calls out, "Swan!"

My mind freezes up at the mention of my last name as I automatically think of Sam's use of it and all the confusion surrounding it. I squash the feelings, burying them in the turmoil that is churning in my stomach as I turn to face Paul for the second time.

I look at him and note that he seems nervous as he scratches the back of his head. Sighing impatiently, I note that the hallways are emptying and I need to get to my next class. Huffing I order, "Talk to me while I walk, that is if you even plan on talking to me."

I don't give him time to consider (on purpose, part of me hopes he just forgoes talking to me) and begin to walk away. I feel him fall into step beside me and I don't say anything as I am waiting for Paul to.

Finally, the seemingly silent giant of a boy walking beside me speaks in this deep voice that sends shivers down my spine, "Listen, what you heard earlier…"

"I didn't hear anything." I interrupt, hiking my back pack up my shoulder, not even bothering to look at Paul. That was my story and I was sticking to it. I didn't hear anything and that was that.

Paul makes a sound of frustration and snaps, "You shouldn't haven been listening anyway. Didn't anyone tell you that it's rude to eavesdrop?"

I roll my eyes, "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to stare?"

Paul makes a weird sound at my jibe and I have never been so happy to see my Math Room. I stop beside the door and finally look up at him, matching the anger that I find there in his eyes.

We don't say anything for a moment and I roll my eyes yet again, sighing, "Well, is that all?"

Paul nods tightly, speaking lowly, "You do realize I know you heard me, Swan."

The way he says it makes me nervous, and fear pinches my belly at the look in his eyes. All of a sudden I regret being in that hallway and listening to the argument. I bite my lower lip nervously before whispering, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's how you're going to play it, huh?" Paul asks.

The way he says it sends a tremor through me and I decide that in this case, feigning ignorance _was_ how I was going to play it. I figured it was the safest thing for me to do and it wasn't so bad that it gave Paul an easy out, now was it? So I nod my head and lift my head to meet his gaze, "Yeah, it is, because I didn't hear a single thing."

But I think Paul disagrees as he narrows his eyes at me, "So you admit that there something to be heard?"

He's clever.

I'll give him that.

"Listen," I hiss, glaring. "I am not saying anything. But I will say this-leave me alone and keep your eyes on anything but me, you got that, Paul? Because I will not spend my senior year enduring your dirty looks. Take them and shove them up your ass. And if you don't do as you've been told, I'll shove them up your ass for you."

"Oh you will, will you?" Paul steps forward. I immediately step back and he boxes me in, both hands on the wall on either side of me.

"Yes."

"Well, Swan," Paul dips his head to speak lowly in my ear. "I think you're forgetting something, because I know you were in that hallway listening to _every single word_ I said and because you did, you'll know that you're stuck with me. You're mine to look at, Swan. Get used to it."

He pushes off the wall and steps back with this hard look in his eyes. It makes me bite my lower lip and I look away. Nerves dance in my belly to the beat of fear and I can't help but feel mildly helpless. I feel so tiny and insignificant under his gaze, like I am actually his to look at. The thought makes anger burn through me and without even meaning to I sneer, "Go fuck yourself."

Just then my Math teacher walks out, and glancing between Paul and I, he asks, "Everything alright here?"

Paul smirks, not taking his eyes off me, "Yes, Bella and I were just sorting out a miscommunicatoin, weren't we?"

My Math teacher looks at me for confirmation and I smile tightly, "Yeah. Paul made a mistake, but we've got it all cleared up."

With that my teacher ushers me inside, dismissing Paul with the action. I turn my head, looking back over my shoulder and watch as Paul backs away with a smirk firmly in place. Paul meets my stare, and the mother fucker winks at me and I know that I've just entered a game. A game that only Paul seems to know how to play. I clench my teeth and decide that I won't be played for a fool and if Paul knew what was good for him he would drop this and talk the easy out I offered him.

Judging by the look on Paul's face, he doesn't know what's good for him.

**A/N: Before anyone asks:**

**Yes, Paul imprinted on Bella in this chapter.**

**Anyway I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please leave a review and let me know what you think. If you want more please review! Oh and just a warning: prepare my readers for a slow burn. This is a darker take on the imprint, so ye be warned!**

**Play List:**

**Bird Song—Florence and the Machine**

**Reflections are Protections—La Roux**

**Heads Will Roll—Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Honeybear-Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Charmer—Kings of Leon**

**Drop Dead Blues—Anya Marina**

**Eyes on Fire—Blue Foundation**

**Happy Alone—Kings of Leon**

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and are ready for another story by me! Leave a review please and thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello!**

**I would first like to apologize for not updating for such a long time. I received a lot of messages asking me where the update was, when it was going to be posted, and such. The reason you all have been waiting for this for so long is because I posted the first chapter of White Blank Page just before I went on a ten day vacation. But I'm back now; fear not, there will be updates sooner and quicker!**

**Thanks so much to those who reviewed on the last chapter, your words truly kept me writing this chapter. Thanks to all those who added me or the story to their favorites!**

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please read and review! **

**White Blank Page**

**Chapter Two: Broken Boy Soldier **

It was the day after Paul and I's "misunderstanding" outside of my Math Room and I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The way Paul treated me that day scared me. I was truly freaked out by his sense of entitlement, as though it was his right to treat me this way. It didn't sit well with me, and I was seriously considering rearranging my schedule just to avoid being around him.

Bessie was all fixed, thanks to the demon that harassed me yesterday (Paul) and I was happy not to walk everywhere anymore. Paul had come over yesterday, spoken with my mother (I listened from the top of the stairs—I had been too scared to come down and face said demon) and promptly fixed my hunk of junk for a truck.

I was currently leaning against Bessie in the school parking lot, waiting for the bell to ring. I mean, I could go inside but I wasn't that desperate to climb further down the social ladder. I had my ear plugs shoved in, the volume cranked up high as I tuned everything else out. But I couldn't tune out what was happening on the inside. I was still rattled from my run in with Paul and feeling scared because it wasn't something I could actually defend myself against.

Paul was untouchable as he was known to hang around Sam Uley, thereby making him a great kid that wasn't capable of any wrongdoing. Paul was a force that I didn't know how to counteract. He actually had me frightened and I didn't enjoy the feeling.

But I was also angry. I was not only angry with Paul for making me feel this way, but for treating me the way he had. He talked about me like I was some piece of meat, opposed to an actual human being. I mean, who the hell did he think he was that he had that he had the right to claim me as his? The thought burned in my belly, twisting and turning.

I worried my lower lip and nearly jumped ten feet in the air when a large palm slapped down on the hood of Bessie, right next to me. With my heart hammering I whip my head around to see who the hell would do such a thing.

Paul.

I gulp at the sight of him and bring a shaking hand up to pull out my ear buds—of course my anger is nowhere to be found, having stepped out only to be replaced by fear at the sight of Paul. The music fades and I keep quiet, waiting for him to speak. He smiles at me and I quickly move my gaze away, not liking the things it makes me feel.

"How's she doing?" Paul asks, rubbing Bessie as he moves to stand closer to me.

"Good."

"Good?" Paul asks.

"Great." I snap curtly. The bell rings and I step away from Bessie, smiling tightly, trying to get away.

Paul follows my move, walking with me. I try to pretend like he isn't there but I can't. He's the itch under my skin that won't be satisfied without any amount of scratching. I glance at him from the corner of my eye and scowl. What was going on here? Why couldn't he just leave me alone?

A lump rises at the back of my throat and all of a sudden it's too much. I still feel his gaze, the one heavy with disappointment and anger. I quicken my pace and lengthen my strides in hopes of getting away from Paul. I didn't understand, one day he hated me, the next he wants to make conversation.

Was I just some sick joke to him?

Was this a dare or something?

My heart clenches at the thought of this being a prank on me. I look around the parking lot, my eyes searching for any clues. I don't see anything that provides evidence until I see Sam and his cronies watching Paul.

I keep on walking, "Is there something you want, Paul?"

Paul smiles, "Just to make sure that your truck was okay."

"Well you've done that." I snap, anger bubbling at boiling at the thought of him attempting to humiliate me in front of Sam and his posse.

"Tsk, tsk, why so angry?" Paul says, his voice teasing.

"Well how would you feel if some asshole wouldn't leave _you_ alone?"

"Asshole? Ouch."

I groan, "In case you didn't pick it up, that was my hint: leave me alone."

"And if I don't?" Paul smirks.

"Then you'll answer to my foot."

Paul laughs.

Asshole.

He knows that he has gotten under my skin and damn him for abusing that privilege. I almost wished that he would just go back to giving me dirty looks. Sighing I say, "Seriously, Paul, leave me alone. I meant what I said yesterday."

Paul smirks, "And I meant what I said."

My hackles rise quicker than I anticipated and without even thinking I have spun to face Paul. He has this smug little smirk on his face and I feel the strong urge to punch him.

"Listen, you Neanderthal, I am my _own_ person, alright? I don't answer to anybody but myself. Which means, in smaller terms, that I am not yours, you got that? I told you not to look at me, and you won't." I snap, glaring at him.

He looks down at me with raised eyebrows, an expression that tells me exactly how he feels: unimpressed. He looks at me like a child who has just thrown a temper tantrum, and that thought is only confirmed when he rolls his eyes asking, "Are you done?"

"No!" I screech. "I'll be done when _I_ say I am done!"

I stand there before him, huffing with anger and the bastard says, "We really should get to class, assuming you're done, of course."

I gape at him in all his cheeky glory and my anger only grows because he's not taking me seriously. Paul steps closer, and I—completely unintentionally, of course—breathed in his scent. He smelled like the fall and boy and soap and the forest after the rain. Mm-mm-good.

No, not good, I scold myself. I try to regain my wits but all efforts are lost when Paul leans down and place a hot finger just under my chin, "You should close your mouth, or you're going to catch flies."

The heat of his touch is enough to shock me into alertness and ignore my hairs standing on end as I order, "Don't touch me."

Paul clicks his tongue, "Don't you remember, Bella? You're mine. To look at. To touch. To torment. I can do whatever I want."

I stumble away from him, shaking like a leaf, "No."

"No?"

I just gulp, trying to swallow all my fears.

Because I was scared.

I was scared of Paul and all the things he could do to me.

I could feel the panic rising.

The helplessness overpowering me.

The noose around my throat.

I gasp and shakily request, "Just st-stay away from me, Paul."

"Stay away? I'll do no such thing." Paul smirks, as if he knows what he's doing to me.

As though he can feel my panic.

As though he enjoys my fear. I look up at him, and plead, "Please?"

Instead of granting my request or even denying it, Paul says, "See you in class."

He walks off like he's the greatest man that ever lived and I have never felt weaker.

**P ~ B**

My morning had been less than normal to say the least. During my first class with Paul I was on edge and nearly fell apart when the door slammed loudly behind our teacher when they came in. During my second class with Paul, he handed out papers on what the class would be discussing today and purposely brushed my hand when he handed my paper to me. It was as though he was trying to prove that I was truly his toy to play with. But he didn't talk to me. Paul had left me alone for the most part just like I asked and somehow, it didn't feel as good as I thought it would.

I refused to think that way though.

Those thoughts were dangerous because that could lead me to Paul, which wasn't good. Paul wasn't nice; he was a chauvinistic prick that had me under his thumb. I knew he didn't care about anything or anyone. Certainly not about me and how he scared the crap out of me. I knew that Paul could hurt me and would. Then tell me why I tingled all over when ever he touched me?

Tell me why I _wanted_ him to touch me.

Tell me why with one look he had me in pieces, falling apart at his feet.

Tell me why he scared me, but not enough to keep me away.

Tell me why I wanted to take back my words from earlier.

Tell me why.

Somebody.

Anybody.

But nobody had the answers to my questions. I knew that it would be best if I just stayed away from Paul. I should revel in Paul's silence, but I didn't. I craved the sound of his voice. I should just forget Paul and everything that he made me feel. I should do a lot of things. But I couldn't. I should forget the tingles, the shivers, the thrills, the butterflies, everything. I should, but I didn't know how.

How do I get rid of all of it when it had just come into existence?

Just yesterday Paul was another one of Sam's cronies. But today he was the guy who had taken interest in me for once, he was the guy who was somehow tied to me (from what I heard of his conversation with Sam yesterday), he was the guy who scared the crap out of me, but set me free all at once.

I was at a loss.

That feeling of confused desperation followed me everywhere, right to the cafeteria. I walk in my head anywhere but where it should be and I walk right into someone. It's not Paul, thankfully, but it is one of Sam's cronies. I recognize him as Quil, but more importantly he's just as hot as Paul (in temperature) but doesn't give me the tingles.

"Sorry." I mutter, and move to walk around him.

He steps in my way, startling me when he places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from moving. I glance at his hand on my shoulder and then back at him, my eye brows raised.

"Sorry, but I just wanted to tell you not to take Paul so seriously," Quil scratches the back of his neck nervously. "He's got a bad temper, and tends to lash out whenever. Especially if he doesn't get his way. I mean, I saw you guys in the parking lot and—"

"Should stop worrying," I interrupt. "I told him to leave me alone, Quil. He has, so far at least."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't count on it. Paul doesn't…" Quil gets cut off by Paul.

I feel him standing behind me, and his proximity raises the hairs on the back of my neck. I shiver when I hear his deep voice rumble out from over my head, "Paul doesn't what, Quil?"

The situation is damn near laughable except for the fact that I am caught in the middle of it. I am wedged between both Paul and Quil, forming a tension filled Bella sandwich. I don't care for it one bit and thankfully Quil laughs nervously, "Nothing, man."

Paul grunts out this sound that sounds like 'later' but I don't know for sure. Quil walks away, back to the table that has Sam and everyone else. I watch him go and refrain from calling him back—I don't want to be left alone with Paul.

Paul just steps out from behind me and looks down at me, "What'd he want?"

"Nothing." I reply, moving to get in line for lunch. I forgot my lunch at home in my haste to get ready for school (my alarm clock didn't go off at the set time). Stupid alarm clock.

"He must have wanted something," Paul snaps, picking up a tray to put his food on. "Or else he wouldn't be talking to you."

"Maybe he _wanted_ to talk to _me_." I snap back, not liking his assumption.

Paul makes that sound again, all frustrated and angry.

I nearly smirk but it dies on my face when I hear Paul's next comment.

"Maybe, but I know he didn't. Quil doesn't like girls like you."

"Girls like me?" My trachea is tight, my voice small.

"Yes, girls like you." Paul says, but it's like he's talking to a five year old.

"Meaning?" I know I shouldn't be asking, but part of me wants to know.

"Girls who…" He trails off, smirking like he's got an inside joke. "Have a great personality, fat girls."

My heart cracks.

My chest caves in.

My lungs collapse.

My stomach clenches painfully.

He's truly an asshole.

He just called me fat.

I nearly choke on the lump lodged in my throat.

I blink back tears, biting into my lower lip so hard that it hurts.

It hurts though.

"You're such an asshole, Paul." I mutter weakly.

"Twice in one day, Bella, that's not very nice."

"Neither are you."

"C'mon, Bella, you don't even know me."

"Well apparently you know me well enough to comment on my weight." I mumble.

Paul just laughs and the lump in my throat swells because he doesn't even care. But he isn't supposed to, and I don't know why I expected him to. I mean, from what I've seen, I shouldn't come to expect anything from Paul. He was mean and cruel and I just wanted to get away from all of it.

I wanted to leave so I could break down in privacy, because for some reason Paul was able to get inside my head and do serious damage. I should just brush off the comment, and show him that I am strong enough to handle whatever he dished out.

So that's what I did. I bought my salad and went to my table and ate my food. I listened to my angry playlist on my I-pod to keep myself together because I was just about ready to loose it. Between this morning and Paul's more recent comments my weak shield of confidence was battered and bruised and ready to fall apart.

I feel Paul's gaze on me and I look up, the martyr that I am. I sweep over the disappointment and find something different. I don't know what it is, maybe regret. Either way it's not an improvement and I drop his stare.

I leave the cafeteria, my eyes glued to the ground as I do so. I enter the Girl's Bathroom and pick a stall. I slide its lock shut behind me and place a hand over my mouth as the lump in my throat swells and swells. I sit on the toilet and resist the tears that are begging to fall. I want to keep them in, to prove that I am strong, and to prove that his opinion doesn't affect me. But I'm a weak fool that has great posture for their lack of a spine and I let the tears fall.

The tears fall, fat and ugly like me as they slide down my cheeks.

I feel the burn of my embarrassment.

The searing pain of my shame.

For being fat.

For being so pathetically weak.

For not being strong enough to embrace who I was.

For falling apart and allowing my self to do so.

For allowing myself to sob.

To cry.

To fall.

To crack.

To break.

**P ~ B**

Hurt had released me from its strangling hold and I emerge from the stall blotchy and swollen. I avoid looking at the mirror as I approach the sinks and twist the tap for cold water. I cup my hands and splash the cold water over my face. I do this in hopes of calming it, so that I won't scare my Math teacher when I go to class. Also in the case that I happen to see Paul that he won't know how much he affected me, how much he hurt me.

I know a lot of you must be thinking, so what, he called you fat, big deal, get over it. But to me it just wasn't that simple. The excess weight I carried around with me day-to-day wasn't just made up of physical pounds. The excess weight was lined with insecurities, filled with being compared, of being put down by society, by my peers, by everyone. It was so much more than my jean size that Paul was commenting on.

Plus when he said that, the fat comment that is, I was still left rattled from our altercation prior. I was _still_ rattled. I couldn't believe that Paul was claiming me as his. I was horrified that I was left defenseless against him and I didn't know what to do. What could I do? Say that a boy was being mean to me? Harassment? No. I wouldn't do that. I couldn't. No one would believe me anyway, Paul was one of the golden boys on the Reservation despite his anger problems.

I had nowhere to go.

I clean myself up with that thought on my mind, patch myself back together, and look in the mirror. The damage isn't too bad, my eyes are still a little red, but other than that I was fine. I was good enough shape to go to the office and the School's secretary, Mrs. Gable, to rearrange my schedule. I had decided that the only way to survive was to get away from Paul.

I enter the office and approach Mrs. Gable's desk. She looks up at me, all bright eyed and bushy tailed as she asks, "How can I help you, dear?"

"I would like to make some changes to my schedule." I say, biting my lower lip at the thought of not being able to switch my classes around.

"Well let's see what we can do." She smiles, moving over to her computer.

I smile back weakly and offer, "I don't want to anything to serious. I just want to rearrange it so that my first two classes are at a different time."

Mrs. Gable frowns, "Why?"

"Preferences."

"Hmm…well…" She clicks her computer's mouse for a little while, guiding it over the desk as she looks at the screen. "I'm afraid classes will have to remain as they are."

Defeat lands like a brick in my stomach and I murmur, "Oh, okay, thank you for trying, Mrs. Gable."

"You're welcome, dear." She smiles.

I nod and turn around.

My heart stops when I see Paul standing in the doorway.

He looks at me, pinning me to the spot and I am feel like I am back in the stall in the Girl's bathroom. I feel the hurt rising up and I bite my lower lip, trying to shy away from it. I straighten my spine and muster every ounce of confidence as I walk out of the Office.

Paul smirks when I pass through the doorway, "Trying to get away from me?"

"No." I lie, because I don't want Paul to know that I was indeed trying to get away from him.

"Bull shit." He snorts, and walks into the Office.

"Language, young man!" Mrs. Gable scolds from her desk.

It's my turn to smirk, "Yeah, language, Paul."

His lip curls into a snarl he is about to say something when Mrs. Gable cuts in, "Can I help you, young man?"

I don't stick around to hear his reply and quickly make my way to Math Class. I make it to Math Class safe and sound, no interruptions from Paul, thank God. It's half way through the class and I leave to go to the bathroom, partly because I gotta go and partly because I am extremely bored and need to get away.

**P ~ B**

It's the end of the day and I haven't managed to get over what happened earlier. I am done being hurt; I am still wrestling with the anger though. I'm angry because I didn't understand why he would say that to me, he had no reason to. It wasn't like I said or did anything that warranted being attacked like that. I didn't understand Paul, never mind his reasoning.

I felt angry with him for treating me the way he did and making me feel this way. But I was angrier at myself for allowing him to make me feel this way and get away with it. But the problem was that I didn't know how to stop him from making me feel this way. Truthfully, I didn't know how to stop feeling this way.

I had never met anyone who could make me feel this way. I had never let some childish insult result in me bawling my eyes out in the washroom. I wanted to say that it was hormones or something like that. But I knew it wasn't. I knew it was because the insult was coming from Paul.

_That_ was the really confusing part.

Because it shouldn't be the reason why. I barely knew Paul, but somehow what he said to me and about me mattered. It shouldn't, but it did. It was like if an average person said it, like some F.S.S.B, it wouldn't be as bad. I didn't know how that made sense, but it did. Just the other day, a girl called me fat-ass and I just brushed it off. But Paul called me fat and I was in pieces.

But whether I liked it or not, Paul had something over me. It felt like that too. It felt like something bigger than Paul was involved and I wanted to find out what. However, a part of me didn't want to know, because I knew it would only make this entire situation worse.

My trek across the parking lot towards Bessie feels long and tiring, and I am hit with the sudden weight of today's events. It had truly been a bad day and I knew that I made it that way. Had I ignored Paul and his insult, the day probably wouldn't have been so bad. Instead I had another pity party, the second within a two-day stretch, and I was bordering pathetic. I mean, I had confidence, or at least I thought I did. But I just didn't have it around Paul. I felt so insecure and vulnerable around Paul, and his behavior didn't help one bit.

Instead of letting myself get sucked back into it I quickly opened Bessie (I had reached her by now) and hopped in. I toss my school bag onto the passenger side seat and start her up. She rumbles to life and I steer my way out of the school parking lot under the dark clouds threatening to rain.

I am just about halfway from home when a loud booming thunder rattles through the sky; I glance up, shaking my head. I wanted to get home before the storm—I hated driving in the rain. I keep on driving and nearly die when Bessie begins to sputter. The sounds coming from my truck cannot bee healthy, and that is verified when she abruptly stops, causing me to lurch forward in my seat.

"Fuck!" I curse, trying to start Bessie up again. "No! C'mon!"

I breathe in through my nose deeply, the sound seeming loud in the cab of my truck as I try to calm down. I let the deep breath out in a whoosh and close my eyes, turning the key in the ignition again. That attempt earns an awful sound from Bessie and I slam my hands on her steering wheel, "Damn it!"

I was so fucking pissed. Paul had one job—to fix my fucking truck, and he couldn't even do that. But there was no point in getting worked up about it, and I knew that, but it didn't stop me from screeching out a series of profanities and beating up Bessie.

By the end of my grand spaz attack I was a huffy mess with angry tears dripping down my cheeks. I sat there in the drivers seat, arms slung over the steering wheel as I pounded my head against them, repeatedly wailing 'why'. I received no answer and that only made it worse.

Sniffling I reach over to my school bag and pull out my cell phone. I scroll through my contact list and call my Mom, wiping the angry tears off my cheeks as I do so. It goes straight to voice mail and I groan, hanging up before the beep. I know that my Dad is working as well so I don't want to bother him, but I am not content to sit in my truck waiting around for some serial killer to creep out of the woods and cut me into pieces. So I call him, only to get the horrid voicemail treatment again.

"This is fucking great, impeccable timing, Bessie." I punch the steering wheel, as more angry tears build. I feel so pathetically helpless like some damsel in distress and this is cemented when the clouds open up and rain down on Bessie and I.

"Great!" I cry. "Just fucking great!"

But my voice can barely be heard over the loud sound of the rain hitting the cab of my truck in repeated thumps. I shake my head and give aloud shriek when there is a sharp series of knocks on my window. I look over and see that it's Paul who's knocking on my window.

I roll it down with the little knob thing on my door and snap, "What?"

"Is that anyway to greet your rescuer?" Paul grins cheekily, and I am hit with the sudden thought that Paul could be actually, sort of, I don't know, normal when he tried. I didn't see the chauvinistic prick from this morning, nor did I see the asshole from lunch standing before me, I saw a guy trying to help me out.

I sniffled, "Sorry, it's just been a really bad day."

Something flashes in Paul's eyes, I don't know what, but I don't get the chance to ask because Paul says, "I know—"

All of a sudden with that little statement my anger for Paul rolls through me, and without even thinking I shout over the rain, "Do you know, Paul?"

Paul _doesn't_ know. If he did he wouldn't have treated me like crap and would stop caring the crap of me.

"Listen, Bella, if this is about what happened at lunch, just let it go!" Paul shouts back over the rain.

"Let it go!" I hop out of my truck and into the pouring rain, and it is just now that I notice how hot Paul looks. He is all wet from standing in the rain, his black t-shirt is clinging to his torso and his jeans are hugging his legs. He glares down at me, slicking his wet hair back, "Yeah, let it go!"

"Fuck you! I'll let it go when I want to let it go, Paul!" I scream back and I know we're battling over something more than him commenting on my weight. We're arguing something much bigger—I don't know what exactly, but we were none the less.

"Fine! Have it your way, Bella! I am trying help you out here and you're arguing with me over some dumb joke that I made!" Paul shouts.

"Dumb joke? You're right; it was a fucking dumb joke coming from a dumb guy! And I never asked for your help! I never asked for anything!"

"Dumb guy?" Paul scoffs. "You know, a _dumb_ _guy_ wouldn't have pulled over to help you! I could have easily driven past you and left you stranded here, but I didn't! So why don't you do the both of us a favor and get in my fucking car so I can drive you home!"

"I wouldn't be stranded here in the first place if you had done your job right and fixed Bessie properly!" I shouted, jabbing my finger into chest.

"Just get in the car!" Paul snaps, grabbing my wrist to stop me from jabbing him again.

His hand is hot around my wrist and I tug it out of his grasp, "Why are you being so nice now? Why didn't you just drive past me?"

"Jesus, woman, just get in the damn car, right about now I don't know why the hell I stopped! I just did, but I am seriously regretting my decision!" Paul answers me.

We are both silent then and it is just now that I notice how close we are standing. We have slowly inched closer during our argument, and we are nearly toe-to-to. The tension is crackling between the two of us, and for a moment I thought I saw Paul glance down at my lips, but I couldn't be sure.

The rain is pounding down on the both of us, and thunder rumbles above our heads. I shiver and Paul sighs quietly, "Please, Bella, get in the car."

"Okay." I appease.

"Thank you."

**P ~ B**

Paul's car certainly isn't the cleanest that I've seen.

The interior smells like him though, which is a bonus. He has the heat cranked up high, and I can't help but inch closer to the vents. I was freezing in my wet clothes and couldn't wait to get home so that I could change. I glance at Paul from the corner of my eye, and my heart tightens, my stomach does this weird flip thing. I quickly look away when Paul catches me, a smirk sitting on his full lips. A blush creeps its way up my neck, burning my cheeks.

He chuckles and I my cheeks burn all the more.

Since I am a nosey little passenger, I glance around me and see that Paul has CDs everywhere. They form a sea at my feet and there are some scattered along the dashboard, there are even more in the back seat. I smirk, "Not one for an I-pod?"

"Huh?" Paul asks, frowning.

"The CDs. Most people have an I-Pod now and forgo it by downloading." I supply, nerves fluttering in my stomach. For some reason I felt nervous around Paul, like I didn't want to sound stupid or something.

"I'm not most people." Paul replies, only adding to his lack of being normal.

"I never said you were, Paul. I was just trying to make conversation." I muttered, looking out the window.

Paul remains silent, effectively ending our little chat. I don't know why but I felt the need to make conversation and fill the silence, but something told me I shouldn't even bother. Paul seemed like one of those quiet guys that didn't enjoy a girl's incessant chatter. So I remained quiet and instead sifted through his CD collection.

I was on my fifth CD when Paul asked, "Find anything you like?"

Paul's voice seemed so loud after the long stretch of silence that I dropped the CD, "Sorry. I didn't mean to be nosey."

"Do I really make you that nervous, Bella? I was actually asking you if you found anything that you liked." Paul chuckled, glancing at me form the corner of his eye.

There was that damn blush again, "No. You don't make me nervous."

Then he laughs, like full out—not just a chuckle—laughs at me.

I giggle with him and soon we're both laughing and it's contagious. Our laughter dies down and I go back to looking through his CDs and for a moment, I find myself thinking that Paul could be nice when he wanted to be. The only trouble was—how did I get him to be nice to me all the time? I didn't know, and something told me that this little window of Nice Paul was something to savor and not consider a commodity. That thought made my heart hurt for some reason, because I liked this Paul. The one he wasn't being an ass or scaring me.

I feel my eyes light up when I come across a _Kings_ _of_ _Leon_ CD and I sigh, "God, I love these guys. They're amazing."

"Yeah?" Paul smiles at me, glancing down at the CD in my hand.

My heart flutters in my chest and a smile stretches across my face as I smile back at him. Soon, before I even know it, I have entered into an actual conversation with Paul about one of my favorite bands, _Kings_ _of_ _Leon_. Paul is actually really smart and funny when he tries, and I had a funny feeling that not many got to see him like this. He even offers to fix Bessie again, and promises that she'll be ready by the end of the week. I feel this feeling start to build and immediately find that it is the beginnings of a crush.

Here in the car with Paul, talking to him, laughing with him, it is easy to forget about today. I find myself thinking that this day wasn't so bad after all. Before I know it Paul has pulled up to my house, and I grab my school bag (I got it out of my truck earlier) and have my hand on the little handle that'll let me out.

I hesitate because I don't want this to end. I'm afraid that as soon as I open this door, this Nice Paul was going to disappear and never be seen again. So I made the biggest mistake in my entire life when I bit my lip and asked, "Do you want to come in, get dry?"

I look at Paul and my heart drops because I know that Nice Paul has officially left the building. Something has changed, I know this just by the look on Paul's face and he coldly says, "We're not friends, Bella. I gave you a ride home. It doesn't mean anything."

"I know, I just thought…" I mumble, feeling like a fool.

"Just thought what?" Paul asks, his eye brows rose, and it has never been clearer—I am such an idiot.

"Nothing. I made a mistake." I quickly get out of his car, and slam the door behind me.

**P ~ B**

I am lying on my bed all alone and I still feel the burn of my embarrassment when I go out of Paul's car. At the time, I thought foolishly just for a moment that Paul might actually be a good guy. I had never been more wrong in my life. His quick rejection and dismissal of me hurt, but nothing irked me more than my own disappointment in myself.

I was such a fool to think that Paul actually might enjoy my company. My little crush on him just got hit by a truck (and died); I refused to get fooled again. I wouldn't let myself get stuck wearing those rose colored glasses ever again. I needed to stop trying to make Paul into something that it he wasn't. He was an asshole who didn't go for fat girls like me; he just gave them a ride home.

I now knew not to let myself get involved with Paul. He could bother me all he wanted and I would refuse to acknowledge it. I figured if I just ignored him and let him get whatever the hell was going on out of his system that it would go away. That's what I hoped at least.

But I knew, somewhere, deep, deep, deep down that that wouldn't happen. Based on Paul's possessive attitude and his conversation with Sam yesterday, there was a lot more to this than what I wanted.

I could be wrong though, right? I mean, maybe, just maybe, this was much simpler than I thought it was. Then again, something told me that nothing was exactly simple with Paul. But right now I only had two questions:

What had I gotten myself into and was it too late to get out of it?

**P ~ B**

**A/N: Once again sorry for the slow update, however like I said I posted chapter one of White Blank Page just before I left for a ten day vacation. So I hope this chapter did not disappoint, and was worth the long wait. **

**Thank you for all the support that you have all given White Blank Page thus far. Thanks for all the reviews and favorites! I truly appreciate it. So, please let me know what you thought of this chapter.**

**Playlist:**

**Broken Boy Soldier—The Raconteurs **

**Call It a Day—The Raconteurs**

**Take a Vacation—The Young Veins**

**California Paradise—The Runaways**

**I'm Not Your Toy—La Roux **

**BIG NEWS:**

Both stories, White Blank Page and Boarders are nominees of The Jacob-Black-N-Pack Awards!

**White Blank Page** has been nominated for **All Eyes On This One Award-Fav Work In Progress**

**Boarders** has been nominated for **SM4LAward The Best All Around Story This Year**

You guys can check this out here

**Special shout out to zdra8351 for making the nominations!**

**If you all could go check it out and show some love by doing so that would be great. Spread the word as well!**

**Until next time**

**-beavoicenotanecho**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, I do this a lot…but sorry for the slow update. For some reason this chapter was very difficult for me to right, so my apologies if it isn't as smooth as it should be. **

**I hope you enjoy it none the less and that it was worth the wait. **

**Read and review!**

**White Blank Page**

**Chapter Three: This is Cold War**

It had been a week since Paul played the Dark Knight in shining armor to my Damsel in Distress. The week had been utter hell. He left me alone, but would I would catch him looking at me. He would tease me with seemingly accidental touches—bumping into me in the hall way, brushing against me when he would pass by. He was slowly tormenting me, just as he said he had the right to do so, and was enjoying every minute of it.

He didn't talk to me.

Not one single word.

Not one syllable was uttered to me, but his actions spoke for him. I was reading his mixed signals and wondering if I was loosing my mind. Had I imagined the Nice Paul in the car? I didn't even think it was possible for him to exist or even coincide with the chauvinistic prick that was Paul on a regular day.

Part of me missed the harassment because it gave me some sort of contact with Paul, a connection, if you will. But I shouldn't miss it. I didn't know what the hell was going on that I missed Paul scaring me and talking to me like I was some lowly creature. I seriously needed to get my head back in order but I didn't know how. How could I stop the butterflies from filling my belly when Paul was anywhere near me? How could I stop my heart from tripping over itself at the sight of him? How could I stop my breath catching in my throat when I caught him looking at me?

That was the worst part—when Paul looked at me. He looked at me, his deep and dark eyes threatening with their anger and resentment. The resentment was new, whether or not that was better or worse I couldn't say. I never knew.

I had no experience with guys at all. I had never had a boyfriend, which meant I had never been kissed. It meant that I didn't know how to handle myself around guys, I didn't know right from left when I was around guys. I didn't know how to flirt, or to even talk to them. But it had been easy to talk to Paul that day in the car. It had been effortless and simple and easy right up until I ruined it.

I should have just left it alone, but of course I didn't. But I had from that point on. It had been a week and I hadn't even paid any (obvious) attention to Paul. I had managed to avoid him every chance I got, despite the fact that he had being ignoring me. The feeling seemed mutual, as though we were both ignoring each other. I didn't know what to make of that. But a small part of me kept on ignoring and avoiding and evading because I was scared that at some point Paul would stop and try something. Whether it is making fun of me, or even trying to make his freakishly possessive comments.

Sometimes I would catch him looking at me with this smug smirk on his face, as if he had big plans or something. Other times I just chalked it up to the fact that Paul liked to watch me squirm. But for the most part I held my head up high and acted like none of that was happening. I pretended that I had never invited him to come and get dry in my house. I pretended that he wasn't staring at me. I pretended that I didn't notice him staring at me. Needless to say, this past week has been a lot of pretending for me.

There were other times, though, scary times when I would hold his gaze. I would hold it there, my eyes locked in with his, in a silent dance foreign to me. I would hold it until he looked away, taking the tingles and butterflies with him. It was in those moments that it was clearer than ever—something was going on.

I didn't know what (obviously) but I had the distinct impression that there was indeed more to Paul and Sam's little club. I think it stretched far beyond being the golden boys of the Reservation, but whatever was truly going on with those boys I will never know. But I wanted to know. I so desperately wanted to know what Paul had been arguing about with Sam in the hallway, especially since it obviously had something to do with me. Though, the more cowardly aspect of my self was content to just let it be. Part of me was more than happy to just let Paul keep all the skeletons in the closet and more importantly, keep the secret skeletons from me.

I didn't know what to do because it felt like something had begun, like the strings of fate were already steadily weaving their way through. It felt as though these very strings couldn't be undone or cut short. But who was I to say? I mean it could be me just going crazy—which would be the most likely reason, because really, how many girls still want to talk to the guy that called them fat? How many girls wanted to hear said guys voice? How many girls wanted to try ad uncover more?

Not many sane girls.

Just me.

The one that had already forgotten what it felt like to be sane. I truly had, I felt so lost and confused. I was getting panicked and anxious with each passing day, waiting for Paul to make a move. It felt like I had my head lain down on the executioner's block and was waiting for the axe to come down on me.

But I couldn't live like that. If I did I was going to have grey hairs by the time graduation rolled around. I didn't want to feel this way, as though I was waiting around for him to make a move. I didn't want to keep monitoring his body language and trying to read the looks on his face just to get through my day.

I wanted to be mad at Paul for making it this way, but I knew these feelings and my growing paranoia were nothing short of my own creation. I was responsible for my happiness, my state of being, not anyone else, and certainly not Paul. I would have loved to say it was Paul making me feel this way, but it wasn't, it was _my_ reactions to _his_ actions. I couldn't blame Paul for my lack of control over my emotions, but I could blame him for putting me in this position to be feeling this way.

I wanted to forget the past week.

I wanted to forget the tingles.

The butterflies.

The flutter of my heart.

The heat of his touch.

I wanted to forget but I couldn't.

I was too deep into the forest to find my way back now.

**P ~ B**

I was currently sitting in English Class and was nearly positive that I could taste the tension that seemed to join Paul and I together. Paul sat in the desk next to me, fist clenched around a pencil (a pencil that I felt sorry for) and I could almost hear his teeth grinding together.

English Class, due to the way our desks were parked next to each other, brought Paul and I in close proximity. Closer than either of us appreciated. I didn't like it one bit, in fact my heart thumped at its fastest pace at this time of the day because of my nerves. Or at least I liked to think it was because of nerves, when faced with reality, it was probably just because Paul was so close. Though, Paul did make me nervous, so I could, technically, blame my heart's rapid thrum upon nerves.

Right?

It's rhetorical—please don't answer, because I know what you're thinking: it's Paul.

Sighing I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He's looking exceptionally ticked off today—for what reason, I don't know. _Does Paul even need a reason to be angry_, my bitchy side quips, _he just is_. I shake my head inwardly, and damn myself for even caring. Paul isn't anything to me, so what if he was upset or angry over something? Why should I care?

I shouldn't. But we've already covered that enigma. I "shouldn't" a lot of things when it comes to Paul. But that theory has yet to sink in. None the less, I find myself next to an angry Paul in English Class.

My teacher is droning on and on and I just whish they would give me the Sparks Notes version of their lesson plan. I mean, I was an avid reader but Paul's presence had sucked the fun out of English Class—he was just so God damned distracting.

Finally the teacher finished their never ending explanation on the current novel we were reading and commanded us (the class) to get into pairs and discuss the characters, themes, and all that jazz. I never liked that, when teachers made us all pair up. All it did was pair up friends and complete strangers (those were the people who never had partners when everybody got all paired up). I was always the person who got paired with the random kid I didn't even know went to our school.

Fun times.

I look around and watch as friends smile at each other and move to each other's desks. Everyone settles, girls giggling and talking about anything but the book and the guys doing the exact same thing, with exception to the giggling.

Sighing, I am about to ask the girl next to me if she wants to work with me when I hear, "Will you work with me?"

My head whips around to the voice's owner and my heart was all in a frenzy thinking it might be Paul. But my heart's frenzy dies suddenly when I see that it's not Paul—I know, it's pathetic, really. I take in the kid before me, and much to my surprise it's actually a guy.

I fumble for a moment, "Uh, yeah, sure."

The guy sighs in what I assume to be relief and pulls a chair up to my desk, "Thanks, I'm Eli, by the way."

"I'm Bella, and no problem. I should be thanking you, or I would have ended up working with a complete stranger." I reply, smiling.

"And what, I'm not a stranger?" Eli asks, smirking at me.

"Not anymore, you're not. You're Eli." I state and he laughs.

His laugh is warm and welcoming. The kind that I should like, but instead I am wondering what Paul's laugh sounds like. Jesus, someone help me. I have to actively stop thinking about Paul.

"How do you know that?" Eli counters. "I _could_ be a murderer or something."

"Nah," I chuckle. "You don't look it."

"How does someone look like a _murderer_?"

"They just do." I supply. "I mean, look at Sam Uley's little cult. What's really going on there? I mean, doesn't it _look_ like something more than a close group of friends?"

"I hear it's a gang." Eli whispers, glancing over at Paul, who was talking to our teacher about something.

"You think so?" I ask, looking over at Paul just like Eli did.

"Maybe. But it's freaky. I mean they follow him _everywhere_. I wonder how he keeps them in line." Eli says, looking back at me.

"I don't know. I don't think it's a gang though."

"No?"

"No. I mean, what kind of gang are they then? The kind that the community likes?" I raise my eye brows as I look at Eli. I mean it was true. The Council liked Sam and his followers, they were the golden boys. They could do know wrong.

"True." Eli sighs. "But I used to chill with Jared, he was cool. He used to laugh at all of that—the Council, the community, Sam Uley. But he's with Sam now. One day we're hanging out, the next he comes down with something and when he's all better he ditches me for Sam."

"Wow." I whisper, filing that information away for later.

"Yeah. When I asked him about why he wasn't hanging out with me anymore he told me to mind my own business." Eli scowls, looking like he was caught in the memory.

"Did you?" I ask, positively itching for some more information.

"Not at first…but you can't force someone to be your friend, right?" Eli asks, looking down at the desk. For some reason my heart clenches for the kid because I know he's probably hurting more than he let's on. I mean, I never had a friend to count on and I couldn't imagine what it felt like to lose one.

"I guess not," I sigh, smiling sadly. "You can't force people to do anything they don't want to do."

Eli nods, "I keep telling myself that but I mean, maybe it wasn't that Jared _wouldn't_, but that he _couldn't_."

"What do you mean?" I ask, my eyebrows pulling up into a frown.

"I don't know, it's crazy," Eli pauses, letting out a breath. "But maybe those guys don't hang around Sam because they want to, but because they have to. Like maybe, they're _forced_ to hang around him."

"I don't know, Eli." I mumble, wrestling with his theory.

"Think about it, Bella. I mean, do those guys look happy when they shadow Sam? They're not exactly the most compatible bunch either." Eli says.

"Compatible?" I echo.

"Yeah, compatible. I mean, like a month before Paul joined the ranks he got into a fight with Quil. An actual fight, punches and everything. Then he joins Sam's group and everything's fine."

"Aren't you just a well of information?" I tease, tapping my pen against my lips as I thought about what Eli said.

"That's me, smartest kid on the Reservation." He boasts cheekily.

I laugh, "Okay, how come I've never met you before in my entire life?"

Eli smirks, leaning forward as he stage-whispers, "You didn't meet me because I didn't want you to meet me. I've got a rep to maintain, geniuses only hang out with others of their caliber."

"Are you calling me dumb?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"What? I'm talking to you now, aren't I?" Eli quips.

"Oh, so you've updated my status to a genius and are free to associate with me?"

"You can keep up; I knew I was right about you. My genius radar is rarely wrong."

I laugh, shaking my head at him. We settle down and actually begin to talk about the book, recording some of our thoughts just like the teacher asked. I find, through this forced interaction that Eli is a good guy. Or at least I think he is, I mean, I didn't have the best taste—I was pining for Paul. Eli was exactly who I should be crushing on, with his warm personality, light eyes and killer smile. Instead I was carrying a torch for Paul: tall, dark, brooding and handsome.

I seriously think that something is _wrong_ with me.

Instead of focusing on that thought I concentrate on the lack of butterflies in my stomach. I concentrate on the tingles that I am not experiencing. I concentrate on the relaxed thrum of my heart. I concentrate on the fact that Eli is everything that Paul is not, and Eli is not doing a thing for me.

Sighing inwardly I look into Eli's clear ad honest eyes, not holding one secret, and try not to think of Paul.

**P ~ B**

I, for once, am not eating alone. My book is not my partner in crime this time; instead it is replaced with an actual human being. Eli has chosen to eat lunch with me and I couldn't have been happier. I saw the beginnings of what I hoped to be a friendship with Eli. I couldn't help but be a little excited at this, although part of me was also nervous. What if this was just a one time thing? What if this was a fluke? What if, tomorrow, Eli decided I wasn't a genius?

My anxieties batted against the walls of my stomach as Eli and I walked towards my table. I was so nervous that I didn't even know how to begin a conversation with Eli. In class it had been easy, the conversation borderline effortless. But here in the cafeteria under the florescent lights I was at a loss.

Fortunately Eli was skilled in the art of conversation and asked me about my schedule this year. We made easy small talk until we made it to the table, pausing to sit down. I was about to ask him about his schedule when I noticed he was looking over my shoulder, staring intently.

"Eli?" I say, pulling my apple out of my brown-paper-lunch-bag. He remains silent for another beat before speaking lowly.

"Paul looks like he wants to kill me, something I should know?" He quirks his brow.

Scowling I look back over my shoulder to see Paul paused at the cafeteria's entrance, glaring at Eli. It feels like time freezes when Paul meets my stare. His eyes are darkened by anger and for once fear does not run down my spine; instead I am scorched with the heat of my anger. I glare at Paul, hoping to send a message. Paul clenches his jaw, lips lifting into a snarl ass he glares right back. I hold myself there, refusing to loose any ground that I feel that I have gained. Paul walks into the cafeteria, moving from his post, never taking his eyes off of me. I hold strong, and follow. Paul eventually breaks the binding stare by turning his head and saying something to Quil (who was walking along side him).

I do the same, turning back to Eli. He looks at me with curious eyes, and I roughly bite into my apple, swallowing before supplying, "That's just Paul."

"Just Paul?" Eli parrots.

"Yes." I tear another chunk out of my apple.

"He doesn't seem to know that he is 'just Paul'." Eli drawls.

"Yeah, I know. I am trying to work on that." I reply, and watch as Paul sits down with Sam.

"Work on it? Is he bothering you?" Eli asks, his lips molding into a grim line.

My heart thuds in my throat, "No."

"No?"

I don't even know why I said no. I mean, that had been my chance. It had been my moment, my time to tell someone that yes, Paul was bothering me. That I was halfway to insanity because of him. But instead, for some reason, something told me to keep whatever was happening with Paul quiet. For some reason, an instinct rang clear within, pushing me to hide Paul, protect.

"No," I repeat firmly, meeting Eli's disbelieving stare. "Nothing, we just had a simple misunderstanding."

"Okay," Eli drags the word out. "Whatever you say."

I smile at Eli, and we move on easily. I ask him about his schedule and his likes and dislikes. I basically get to know Eli, on the surface anyway. For I know that nothing is as it seems.

**P ~ B**

Eli is simple.

Eli is easy.

Eli is kind.

Eli is sweet.

Eli is not Paul.

Eli isn't dark.

Eli's eyes are light at as a summer's day.

Paul's are a cold winter's night.

Eli is what I should want.

But I don't.

I want the cold.

I want the dark.

I want Paul.

Thoughts such as these rattle around in my mind as the fading rays of summer give way to the harsh winds of fall. Eli and I formed an easy friendship under the changing leaves of autumn. He makes me laugh and smile all the time and I know that this is what friendship is.

Our friendship also formed under the watchful gaze of Paul. He watched our every move, well more importantly, my every move. He watched quietly from a distance, but I wasn't fooled. I didn't think that Paul was simply letting go, I knew by the look of him that something was keeping him from talking to me. I wanted to relish in it but I hardly could. I couldn't relish in his silence when it was simply supplemented for with angry, intimidating stares that had me wishing I could disappear. Paul was getting angrier with each passing day and I knew I was in trouble. Paul was building up to something and I didn't know what or how to stop it. Part of me knew that Eli was not helping the situation, that he, unfortunately, was the main offender in Paul's eyes. I knew, with a strange certainty, that I should cut ties with Eli and spare him from Paul.

But I couldn't, I selfishly clung to my friendship with Eli for a number of reasons. I wanted to maintain my friendship because it was the first and only one I had that was true and good. I wanted to prove that I could do what ever I wanted, that I was my own person to Paul. It may make me a bad person for taking advantage of Eli like this, but how could I not; when he was the pen I wrote my message to Paul with?

But Eli took away the pain. Eli took away the anxious jitters that were worsening with each passing day. Eli made a lot of things better for me, how could I let go of him? I couldn't.

However, I knew, within my aching heart, that I should retract my hold and return to my solitary life before my friendship with Eli. As much as my head knew this, repeated this, my heart differed and held fast and steady to the new boy in my life.

The new boy, who should be all my wants and wishes made of bone and skin—is not. He is not who makes my heart flutter when he looks at me. He does not awaken butterflies in my stomach when he is near. He does not cause my heart to burn with life at the very sight of him. No, Eli does none of these things. Instead, it is my quiet Dark Knight sets me aflame.

I know what a silly girl I am. I know it with every breath I take, with every step I make, I know. This thought burns me to the core, and I damn Paul for doing this to me. For I know it his twisted web that has me ensnared and confused.

**P ~ B**

I know that my time with Eli has run out when Paul finds me in the library. I'm far back, out of reach and out of sight from everyone else when I see him coming up the aisle of books. I stand their frozen, like a deer in the headlights at the mouth of the aisle and watch as Paul comes for me. I turn to my left and break out in a quick walk, trying to get away.

I dodge my way through the aisles, and give a girly shriek of fear when I feel a hot hand grab my bicep and yank me backwards. I slam back into Paul's hard chest with nothing more than a resigned whimper.

"You can't escape me, Bella," Paul says, twisting me to face him. "You should know that by now."

I feel fear swell up inside of me, twisting my gut as I face Paul. I can't help but notice his attire: he is wearing all black, like the Grim Reaper, I think wryly. I meet his eyes and get sucked back in: all I feel is his touch, his breath fanning across my face, his eyes on me. My body flames before him, coming into life—it feels that way, when Paul touches me. It feels as though I am in this weird limbo until Paul is near, until Paul touches me, looks at me. I choke on the breath passing through my lips and wait for him to say more.

"I've been watching you," He murmurs, his eyes flaring with anger. "I've had enough. You like that boy don't you?"

"Eli," I whisper. "His name is Eli."

"I don't care who he is," Paul snaps, sliding his hand up from my bicep. His hot hand follows the curve of my shoulder and modest slope that leads to my neck. His hand curls around the side of my neck, his thumb resting over my pulse point. It thrums harder and faster under it and Paul smirks before saying, "I've been generous, my Bella. I have let you laugh and smile with this boy but enough is enough. I won't stand by and watch it any longer. You're mine and _that_ _boy_ is looking at you as though you are his."

I don't believe Paul for one second and my stomach twists with rage at his assumed ownership. I want to argue but my mind as gone slack under his touch. My mind is fogged with the heat of his hand and my eyes flutter, drooping closed without permission.

"No," I refuse weakly, trying to move away. "No."

I stumble and Paul lets me trip backwards into the shelves of books behind me. The metal digs into my back and Paul shows no sympathy when he steps forward to say, "It's not up to you, Bella. You'll get rid of that boy by the end of the day if you know what's good for you. If you refuse, I'll get rid of him for you, and we both know you don't want that."

I gape at Paul and I know he is being serious. I know that he will get rid of Eli if I don't and this rage swells up inside of me that I am shocked at its intensity. It burns in my belly as lower my voice to say, "No."

Paul just laughs and begins to walk away. But I won't let him this time.

I grab his wrist and hiss, "No. I determine who is in my life and I have chosen Eli. I will have him in my life whether or not because it is not up to you. _I_ decide, not you. It shouldn't matter at all anyway who I surround myself with to you, Paul. You made that very clear when you told me that we weren't friends or anything, when you called me fat and ignored me for the past month."

He looks down at me, shock and fury swimming in his eyes, "I wasn't ignoring you, I had no choice. But I do now."

No choice? What did he mean, 'no choice'?

"No choice?"

"I have the choice now and I will not stand by any longer and watch you and that boy." Paul spits.

"Eli." I say firmly, "His name is Eli."

"It doesn't matter," Paul jerks his wrist out of my grasp. "You would be better to forget him altogether than to make me remember his name. He won't be anybody after today; he will be _that_ _boy_ to you."

"No!" I counter. "He _will_ be Eli. He _will_ be my friend. He _will_ be much more than _that_ _boy_ for today and tomorrow and until I see fit."

For once, it is I who leaves Paul behind. It is me who ends the conversation with an exit, not Paul. I walk down the aisle, not looking back once, and promptly leave the library. My anger burns but pride swells and is felt above all else as I bask in my triumph over Paul. It may be small, but it sends a thrill through me none the less.

My anger still simmers inside of me, whispering encouraging messages that have me nearly marching out of the library to their victorious tune. But my high came to an immediate halt when I saw Eli walking down the hall. He catches me staring and smiles at me, wide and brilliant. I don't smile back because my insides are all tight and twisted.

Can I really put this boy at risk?

Am I so selfish to do so?

I didn't know in that moment and I didn't want to. I wanted to keep Eli in my life just like I said I would, damn near proclaimed I would, but somehow when faced with the reality, it felt so much greater than I imagined. Would I really risk Eli just to prove something?

But the bigger question what were the consequences of denying Paul?

How severe would they be?

I didn't know.

Would Eli be harmed because of me?

Would Paul hurt Eli?

Too many questions and not enough answers had my head spinning and I greeted Eli weakly, "Hey."

"Hey," He smiles again, and my gut twists. This boy deserved a better friend than me. "You okay?"

His concerned eyes make me want to be sick for even considering putting him at risk.

"No. But I will be."

And I would.

I'd listen to Paul, do as I was told and spare Eli from Paul.

But more importantly, I spare him from something much worse.

I'd save him from me.

The worst friend he'll ever have.

**P ~ B**

It's the end of the day and my heart is heavy with dread as I cross the parking lot to my truck Bessie (Paul actually fixed it, again). The sky is dark with heavy clouds and I feel my crap-tastic Friday is damn near complete when I see Eli standing in front of Bessie, hands stuffed in his pants pockets.

I approach slowly, and gather all the courage I can.

"Hey!" Eli greets, and it feels like my heart is breaking. I know that this may be the last time I ever speak to Eli if I follow my orders. I know I'll miss him deeply. I'll miss his smile and his eyes and his laugh and him. I'll just miss Eli.

"Hi," I mumble, looking down at my feet.

"So I was thinking that we should hang out tonight," Eli says, and I am about to refuse when he continues. "We should go to that party on the beach tonight."

"A party? Me and you?" I ask dumbly instead of saying no like I should have.

"Yes, a party. It's a social gathering in which people come together, usually to celebrate something." Eli quips.

I don't laugh like I usually would. "No."

Eli's easy smile falters, "No?"

I shake my head, pursing my lips.

"It's okay, we can do something else. Go to the diner. Maybe even catch a flick at Port Angeles?" He rambles off and I cringe inwardly, this was going to be hard.

"I don't really feel like doing anything tonight, Eli. I've got a ton of homework and I just want to be alone." I speak quietly.

"C'mon, Bella," Eli whines. "You've got all weekend! Hang out with me! We can do anything you want!"

Maybe it was because I just wasn't ready to let Eli go but my resolve was weakening.

"Eli," I whine back. "No. I just can't."

"Yes you can. I'm not taking no for an answer. We are hanging out tonight. I'm coming by your place at six." Eli grins, walking away and I feel a smile forming in response.

He leaves me there: resolve crushed and broken. I know I'm playing with fire, purposely ticking Paul off and putting Eli at risk. But I can't help it. I know I should have shut Eli down, told him no, refused every offer. But I didn't.

Sighing I move to get into my truck but I am stopped when I hear, "What part of get rid of do you not understand? I thought I made myself clear."

I jump and spin around to see Paul. I nervously tuck a strand of hair behind my ears and say, "I don't respond to threats."

"It wasn't a threat. It was an order." Paul snapped, glaring at me.

"Piss off, Paul." I bite back, scowling at him.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," Paul sighs, disappointment marring his deep voice. "Don't make me do something I don't want to do."

I remain silent and look away, trying to keep the guilt at bay. Would Eli get hurt because of me? Would Paul hurt Eli because I didn't listen? I looked at Paul and mumbled, "Just give me until Monday, please?"

Paul considers it for a moment, "Fine. Monday."

He saunters off then, leaving me alone.

I take a deep breath in and look across the parking lot. I find Eli easily, his brown mop of hair currently encased in his car. My heart aches at the thought of having to let our friendship go but I know that it is better than risking subjecting him to Paul. I get into my truck and make the long drive home.

I know I should just ignore Paul and his orders but something told me he didn't make empty threats. I wanted to ignore Paul, but my fear was back and I didn't want to drag anyone who didn't belong there into Paul and I's drama. I didn't want Eli to end up getting hurt just because I didn't know how to let go.

Sighing I come to a smooth halt in my driveway. I sit there for a moment and try to gather myself. I knew within my heart that I would miss Eli terribly but I knew my heart would hurt with something much more than loss if Eli was hurt because of me.

I grab my bag and get out of my truck, closing the door behind me. I make my way up the steps, easily slipping through the front door into the quiet, empty house. My parents were always out, away from home. My mom was addicted to her work and my Dad was always away to avoid the empty house. Where did that leave me?

Alone.

In the very empty house.

I toss my keys onto the table near the door and kick my Converse off. They hit the floor with a loud _smack_ that only seems to emphasize the hollow quality of my house. I make my way up to the bedroom, the creaky complaints of the stairs my only company.

I set my bag down in my room once I reach it and turn on my computer. It hums to life, its black screen coming to life too with delicious electricity flowing through it. I sit down on my computer chair and begin to get lost in the World Wide Web.

It was quite pathetic, really, how I could plunk myself down in this computer chair every day and zone out. But it was nice, in a way. I could just turn myself off and click away as I blocked out the silence of my house and other things that I preferred not to think about. Like ending my friendship with Eli.

I am halfway through my transformation into a Computer-Zombie when I hear someone at the door. The loud knock rips through the wooden door and bounces through my house. I look down at the clock and see that it's already six o'clock. My stomach slowly sinks and I know it's Eli waiting out there.

My hands begin to shake and I look down at them horrified. The anxious jitters were becoming more common now and I didn't like it. It had been happening for the past month now and I was starting to wonder if I should talk to someone about it. I didn't have time to ponder as there was another knock at the door.

For a moment I briefly considered ignoring Eli altogether and just getting rid of him that way but I just couldn't do it. I am up and out of my computer chair within seconds, descending the stairs quickly as I call, "One second!"

I open the door, revealing Eli rocking back and forth on his heels. He smiles at me and I open the door wider as a sign for him to come in.

"I thought you weren't home for a second there. Trying to ignore me, Swan?" Eli teases.

My heart thuds and I laugh without humor at the accuracy of his guess.

Eli follows me into the kitchen and I ask, "Want anything to drink?"

"Nah, I'm okay." Eli replies and settles on one of the kitchen stools, watching as I grabbed a can of soda out of the fridge.

"So," Eli says, dragging out the syllable. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"I don't know. Make something to eat, watch a movie?" I offer, opening up the can of soda.

"Awesome. What movie do you want to watch?" Eli asks, eyes dancing with his options. That's one thing Eli liked about coming over to my house: my DVD collection was impressive, according to him at least. Eli was a real film buff and would watch everything and anything.

"You pick. You know where the movies are."

Eli jumps off the stool and leaves me in the kitchen to go and look at the selection of DVDs I've collected in the living room. I think about what we should have to eat and call, "How do you feel about pizza?"

"I don't know, I've never met pizza before!" Eli calls back cheekily and I roll my eyes.

"We're having it for dinner." I declare and he voices no objection.

I pull out the frozen pizza from the freezer and set it out on the table. I put it in the oven once its all heated up and leave the kitchen to go see what movie Eli has chosen for us to watch.

I walk into the living room and plunk myself down onto the couch against the wall and ask, "What's the verdict?"

"The jury is still out, trying to decide between _Jennifer's_ _Body_ and _Cop_ _Out_."

"Well you can never go wrong with anything directed by Kevin Smith." I advise, preferring _Cop_ _Out_ if given the option of choice. But it was Eli's choice tonight, not mine.

"Yeah, I guess," Eli mumbles, looking down at the two DVDs in each of his hands. "I don't know…"

"Just put in _Jennifer's_ _Body_, Eli. I know that's the one you want to watch." I tease, knowing about Eli's crush on Megan Fox.

Eli smiles widely and sets _Cop_ _Out_ back on the shelf before setting up the DVD player and putting the movie of his choice inside.

He sits down on the couch next to me on the couch and I glance at him from the corner of my eye. I know I'll miss this kid but I can't think about that now, it's too late to turn back. Instead I turn my attention back to the television and watch the movie.

After a little bit I get up and check on the pizza. It's ready so I pull it out of the oven and bring it through to the living room. Eli quickly grabs a slice not taking his eyes off the screen.

"It's hot." I say.

"Ouch! I burnt my tongue!"

"I told you it was hot."

"I didn't hear you."

"No, you were to busy eyeing Megan Fox."

"P-Shh, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay, Eli." I drawl sarcastically.

He remains silent, before blowing on his pizza and taking a bite. I return to watching _Jennifer's_ _Body_ and let my slice of pizza cool off. I watch the movie, only jumping out of my skin once. Before I know it I am watching the credits roll across my television's screen.

It's only eight o'clock and I ask, "Another movie?"

"Nah, I was thinking we should do something else."

"Like?"

"Maybe go to that party?"

"Eli," I groan. "I am not going to that party."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Why?" Eli repeats, confused.

"Because I don't belong there, parties aren't my thing."

"Fine, we don't have to go."

"I never said that you couldn't go. You can go without me if you want."

"What?" Eli says. "No. If you're not going, I'm not going either."

"Eli," I sigh. "Don't limit yourself. If you want to go, you should."

"The party won't be fun without you. Besides, that's what friends do. We stick by each other."

My heart twists at his words and I wonder if I'll be able to let him go cleanly, smoothly, without any mess. I couldn't hand much more mess, I was already one.

Eli and I watch another movie, and I'm yawning as I walk him to the door. I am hit with the thought this is the last time Eli and I will be hanging out, watching movies together. My gut twists and I open the door for him, stepping out onto the porch.

It's dark out and the crickets are chirping loudly. Eli stands there for a moment, nervously running a hand through his hair.

"Have you ever really liked someone, even though you know you shouldn't?" Eli exhales shakily.

My heart thuds. "Yes."

He steps a bit closer to me, looking at me like I've never been looked at before.

"Have you ever wanted something so bad, that you're willing to risk just about anything to get it?"

My lungs tighten, making it harder to breathe.

Paul's face flashes before me in my mind without permission.

"Yes."

Eli is so close right now that I can count the freckles on his nose.

He's coming in closer and just when there is a breath between the two of us I whisper, "Eli."

Eli doesn't reply.

His lips are on mine.

My eyes widen in shock and my heart thuds even faster.

But it hurts.

Kissing Eli feels wrong.

My stomach lurches and I jerk back.

"No," I murmur.

My stomach sinks at the look on Eli's face.

Because in this instant we both know that it's not his lips I want.

I feel horrible but I know that this is my chance.

This is the knife I can use to sever ties with Eli.

Without even knowing it, Eli has given me the perfect weapon to hurt him with.

"Go, Eli." I step back.

"I'm sorry, Bella…"

"Go." I feel the tears pressing at the back of my eyes.

"We can forget this. I can forget this." He pleads.

"Go!" I order, spinning around and taking refuge inside my empty house.

I rest against the back of the door, and foolishly touch my lips.

They don't feel any different.

It hadn't really been a kiss, if I thought about it. Just a quick meeting of lips and then it was over. But however short it was, it hadn't felt right, if that made any sense. My reaction certainly wasn't right, was it?

I hear Eli leave, and I step back out onto the porch. I watch as he leaves, the tail lights of his car fading quickly with the distance that is growing between us. I am about to go back inside, mid-turn actually, when I see a light go off in Embry's house. Now, I know it is completely normal; lights go off in houses all the time. But something was different. The light went off quickly, right when I looked up.

Feeling shaken and scared I reenter the house.

But something told me it had Embry watching.

Had he seen Eli and I?

Would he tell Paul?

In the quiet darkness of my house I knew Embry would.

**P ~ B**

I show up at school on Monday early, having woken up at four in the morning. It's eight o'clock now, and school doesn't start for another half hour. I know I should have stayed at home, but I couldn't.

My whole weekend had consisted of me trying not to enter into a panic attack. I was worried that Eli had told Paul and was waiting for something. I was waiting for Paul's reaction, violent and angry as I knew it would be.

Paul had been angry that I had been talking to Eli.

Never mind kissing him.

But I hadn't kissed him.

Not really.

My hands trembled lightly in fear of Paul and I clenched them into fists. It was utterly quiet in the school's parking lot, and I looked around carefully, only seeing two other cars. I pull out my I-Pod from my bag and put the ear buds in, and listen to my music on low.

I close my eyes and wish it all away.

I wish that Eli hadn't kissed me.

I wish that I had wanted Eli to kiss me.

I wish that I was normal.

I am about to really crank my pity party into high gear when I see Paul's car roll into the parking lot. My heart thuds rapidly, wildly, as if it is trying to break free. My trembling hands begin to shake with aggression and I fold them together, clenching my eyes shut.

I grab my bag and get out of the car, hoping that I'll be safer from Paul if I am inside the school. I am halfway there when I see Paul get out of his car. That damn car that got to see my stinging rejection, I immediately hated it. I quicken my pace and am nearly at the school when I feel Paul sling an arm around my shoulder.

I shrug off his arm and he asks, "What's your definition of getting rid of somebody, Bella?"

His tone tells me his question is rhetorical.

"In my dictionary, it doesn't mean you kiss them."

I stop dead in my tracks.

"H-how—" I start but Paul cuts me off.

He mocks me, "H-how, what, Bella?"

My insides twist and I remain silent.

I keep walking; I'm nearly at the school now.

"What? Cat got your tongue? Or does Eli?" Paul taunts cruelly.

My anger rushes forth, mixed with hurt because I had done what he told me to do. I ignored Eli's calls all weekend. I had texted him late Sunday, telling him not to talk to me, to leave me alone. I _had_ gotten rid of him.

"Shut up!" I screech, my voice sounding weak. "I got rid of him!"

"That's not what I heard," Paul grabs my wrist, halting my step. "A little birdie told me you kissed him."

I turn to face Paul; trying to ignore the rapid thrum of my heart and how Paul stopped the trembles I had been enduring.

"After." I whisper. "It was after he kissed me that I got rid of him."

Paul remains silent for a moment before asking, "Did you like it when he kissed you?"

His voice is low and deep and I shudder as it grates against my ears in the most delicious way.

I remain silent, refusing to answer the question.

"Did you?"

He steps closer, and I can _feel_ his heat.

My lungs tighten at his proximity, and it's hard to breathe.

"Answer me, Bella." His lips are at my ear, whispering hotly to me.

I hold back, shaking my head.

"No you won't answer me? Or 'no' you didn't like it when he kissed you?"

God he is so close and it feels so good.

Too good.

His other hand (the one that isn't holding my wrist) slowly slides up my back to cup my neck. His hand is so hot against the nape of my neck and I bite my lip, allowing my eyes to close. I can nearly feel his smirk and I almost die when I feel him breathe against my lips.

Without permission my lips part and my tongue slips out to wet them.

I feel his hand slide up my arm only slide back down, creating a hot path down my back.

He presses me closer.

My eyes open slightly, and I notice that he doesn't have any freckles on his nose.

He smirks at me, tightening the grip he has on the back of my neck, "Let's see if you like it when _I_ kiss you."

His voice is husky and deep and I've barely heard what he's said when I feel his lips on mine. The first thought that flashes through my mind is: Oh my fuck Paul is kissing me and it feels so god damn right. His lips are oddly hot against my own, but I pay no mind and enjoy their soft fullness. He presses his lips more firmly to mine, encouraging me to react. I kiss back, moving my lips in a way that has to be right because it feels so fucking good. It's like my body is alive, humming like when I've drank one to many sodas.

My arms are limp at my sides because I don't know what the hell to do with them. But I can't think about arm and hand placement right now because Paul is kissing me. He slides his hand up into my hair, grabbing at it to tilt my head to a different angle. I comply, and he pulls my lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it. My toes curl inside my Converse and I try to keep the bubbling excitement inside.

He bites down and I feel my breath hiss through my lips at the sharp pain brought to my lower lip. He soothes the burn by sliding his hot tongue along my lower lip. I moan quietly at the back of my throat and I feel Paul's lips turn up slightly.

He pulls away, placing a series of hot, open mouthed kisses against my lips.

I am in a hazy grey fog when he pulls away, sliding his hand out of my hair to grip the back of my neck.

"Never forget, Bella," Paul murmurs against my lips. "That you're mine and that only I can do that."

He steps away then and I can finally think straight.

He walks away to reveal Eli.

Who saw the kiss.

Who can see me now.

Lips swollen and in a daze.

The look on my face confirms that I have gotten rid of him for sure.

Or that Paul has for me.

My gut twists at the thought, and I know, in that instant, that the kiss didn't mean a thing. Paul was just trying to hurt Eli with the best weapon possible—I—for touching what he believed was his (me).

My heart hurts at the look on Eli's face but I let him breeze by me.

But the only thing I can think of is that Paul had used me for his own needs.

He would have been better off pissing on me to show Eli that I was his.

That was the scary part that had my heart thudding:

I almost believed him.

I almost believed him when he said that I was his, because in that instant it felt that way.

It felt like I was Paul's.

**P ~ B**

**A/N: So? What do you all think? Moving too quick? Too slow?**

**Let me know. **

**Sorry for taking so long to update but this chapter was a bit of a challenge to write.**

**Playlist:**

**Swimming—Florence and the Machine**

**Falling—Florence and the Machine**

**A Kiss with a Fist—Florence and the Machine**

**Drumming Song—Florence and the Machine**

**Heads Will Roll—Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Baby There's a Shark in the Water—V.V. Brown**

**Cold War—Janelle Monae**

**Basket Case—Green Day**

**Was the chapter worth the wait? Tell me if it was or not in a review, please!**

**Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for all the support thus far! I hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, I just borrow from S.M.**

**R&R**

**White Blank Page**

**Chapter Four: Tiny Glass Houses**

Humiliation came down hard and fast over me and I wanted to vomit. I felt hollow on the inside, like someone had gone in and yanked everything out. I couldn't breathe right; my chest hurt and ached like my heart was broken. Something was wrong, so very, very, wrong, with me.

I felt _wrong_.

I look around and feel tears building up against me, threatening to spill. My vision blurs and hastily clench my eyes shut, refusing to let the tears fall. People could see me, people had seen Paul and I.

My stomach lurches at the thought and I drop my eyes.

What had I done?

_What had I done?_

I didn't know.

I press a hand to my lips, expecting to find them burned at blistered at the heat of Paul's lips. But they're not. They feel just as chapped and rough as they were before my kiss with Paul.

I look around and find that everyone is staring at me and my skin burns under their stare. I quickly turn away, rushing into the school. The usually welcomed warmth of my heated school feels too hot today. I find I am sweating in my fall jacket, a pool forming at my lower back and across my brow.

I yank my jacket off once I get to my locker, stuffing it in.

I want to disappear so badly right now.

I want to hide inside my locker until everything's okay again.

But I can't.

I won't fit.

I'll never fit.

I feel a lump swell at the back of my throat.

I grab my books and slam my locker shut.

I couldn't think right now, I could just _do_. I didn't want to think about anything right now, I refused. I didn't want to risk thinking about what had happened just now, about the look on Eli's face.

I cut into the girl's bathroom, and find a stall. I plunk down onto the toilet and press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to push the tears back. But I can't and my hands are wet. I grab the sand-paper-like-toilet-paper and dab at my eyes, trying to pull myself together.

I take in a deep breath and step out of the stall. I wash my face, splashing cold water over it, and I look in the mirror. I take in a deep breath and blow it out through my mouth. I could get through this, I just had to make it to lunch, and then if I still felt like shit, I would go home.

I nod at my reflection and try to ignore the empty feeling inside.

It's like my gut has been emptied out. Like there's an empty whole there waiting to swallow me up. I bite my lower lip and leave the treacherous mirror behind. I rush through the hallway, and try to ignore the sets of eyes I feel on me. Their stares are like acid, eating away at me.

I feel bare and broken by the time I get to my homeroom. I walk in, take my seat and pray that lunch will come quickly.

**P ~ B**

I managed to ignore Paul during my first class.

But I was in English now, with both Paul _and_ Eli and I wanted to die.

My stomach twisted painfully at the sight of Eli when I walked in.

I was a monster for doing this to him.

I sit down in my seat, nearly shaking with the storm of emotions raging inside of me. It felt like there was a war happening inside and the opposing side spared no one. I was a raw, open wound that was bleeding out.

Eli wasn't sympathetic; he looked at me with angry stare and I felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing before him. Only I had been caught, my disguise no longer that, just a suffocating costume.

Paul is no better. He sits in his plastic chair like it's a throne from which he commands court. His arrogance is nearly palpable, and I am surprised I couldn't taste it on my tongue.

I sit between the two of them, feeling huge and uncomfortable.

But I only had myself to thank.

Why hadn't I pushed Paul away?

Why had I kissed him back like it was okay?

Why?

My hands shake and tremble, I glance down at them, horrified with myself. Nausea rolls through me, bowling over my stomach. I clamp my mouth shut, and resist the strong urge to puke. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to relax my lurching stomach. It feels like everyone can see me, like they know what's going on.

Like they know I am scared of myself.

Like they know I have no control.

I try to push the thoughts away but they rattle through my mind, banging against my skull. I can only hear my heart pounding in my ears, its beat pulsing through me. I blink open my eyes, not even realizing I had closed them.

It feels like all my senses are ganging up on me. Slowly, the smell of old textbooks and chalk is rancid to my nostrils. My teachers voice to rough, too loud in my ears. The classroom feels like an inferno.

My heart pounds faster in my ears, the quick _thump-thump-thumps_ blurring together. I know that this isn't normal, and panic slowly creeps up on me. I try to take in deep breaths and slow my heart but it only seems to beat faster. My chest tightens and I can't breathe properly. Air enters my lungs quick and fast and off time. This has to stop, I think with shocking urgency.

I can't breathe.

_I can't breathe._

I am screaming on the inside but nobody can hear me.

Dizziness swings through me, and I can hear someone calling out to me.

I think they're asking me if I'm okay.

But I can't speak, I can't breathe, I just _can't_.

I must be dying here.

My heart beats faster and faster and I can't keep up with the pounding in my ears. I clamp my hands over my ears trying to keep the pounding out, silence it. But someone pulls my hands away and the deafening pulse is back.

My lungs struggle to do their job and I feel light headed and woozy.

My heart is thumping.

My mind is spinning and then bam.

The whole swallowed me up.

Everything is black.

I blink open my eyes, groggily taking in my surroundings. I take in the pale yellow walls and tacky paintings. I crane my neck and find that I am on an orange leather couch; it's cracked and well used. I glance at the wooden door of the room, the pane of glass foggy on purpose.

I read the letters painted there.

_ESRUN_

I scowl, and with a horrified lump of embarrassment plunging through my stomach, I realize that I am in the school's nurse's office. I let my head fall back with a groan. This officially took the cake for one of the worst days ever. Hadn't it been enough to loose a friend, had another panic attack really been necessary?

I throw my arm over my eyes and keep all the emotions at bay. I can't think about any of it. I probably should. I should be processing right now, sorting and managing as I went, but I couldn't. I just felt so hurt and hopeless and small and vulnerable and weak and everything I shouldn't be. I shouldn't be here wallowing either. I should just take this and bear it, because it was my fault.

If I hadn't kissed Paul back, this wouldn't have been so bad. I could've handled Eli and told him we couldn't be friends. If I had it would have been different, maybe be a bit more painless. But I wouldn't know.

I didn't know why I had kissed Paul back. It was as though I hadn't been in control of my own body, as if I were responding, obeying something much greater than my self. It felt completely natural to kiss Paul, as though I had been doing it for years. It felt like I had known Paul's lip's and he knew mine. I didn't know what to make of that. It felt as though it would have been wrong to push Paul away, to deny him. But I couldn't be caught being a slave to that. It was too dangerous to be out of control like that again. I wouldn't let Paul reach in and take hold of me so easily. I wouldn't let him be the puppet master pulling on the strings attached to my wrists again.

I knew that I needed to let this go, to move on and be wiser for it.

One thing that made me rest a little easier was that Eli was safe now. Now he was free to find a true and good friend that would stand by him no matter what. I close my eyes and try to let Eli go, however, it's a lot harder than I could've imagined and soon tears are slipping down my cheeks.

I wish I could've said goodbye properly, a nice goodbye, one that would let him heal easily. I wipe at my cheeks roughly and try to hide that I've been crying when the nurse walks in. She takes one look at me, her smile softening, "Well, hello there, dear, welcome back."

I smile weakly and sit up. I clasp my hands together, squeezing my hands as I wait for her to speak.

"The school social worker would like to speak with you, she's just outside now," She informs me.

I nod, tucking my lower lip into my mouth. As much as I wanted to refuse this little interview, I knew I couldn't. I had to be examined, diagnosed, because it wasn't normal to have a panic attack in the middle of a class. But I couldn't explain it, I mean; I didn't want to be crazy. I didn't want to panic like this, and I certainly didn't want some social worker to come in and tell me what was wrong with me. I already knew something was off, not right, but was it really necessary to talk about it?

I unclasp my hands, cradling my head in my hands as the nurse leaves. She gently shuts the door behind her and I blow out a sigh, trying to calm my bouncing knee. It moves up-down-up-down jerkily and I grab it firmly, stilling it.

The social worker walks in, smiling at me kindly, "Hello, I'm Sarah."

"Bella." I introduce myself, nodding at her.

She sits down in the chair across from me, smoothing out her trendy pencil skirt. She balances her notebook on her lap, clicking her pen so that it's ready to write with. I watch silently, waiting for her to begin.

"So, Bella, how are you feeling?"

"Fine." I reply curtly, my lips tight.

She nods, scribbling something across her paper. I scowl, folding my arms over my torso, wishing I could curl in on myself and hide. She's so slim and tiny that I feel like a beached whale sitting in the room with her. I know that's the size I should be. But I'm not. I tighten my arms around myself, trying to hide my stomach.

"You gave us quite a scare, Bella." Sarah says, her eyes concerned.

I just smile weakly, "Sorry."

"You're aware that you passed out, Bella?" Sarah questions.

I just nod, humiliation painted red across my cheeks.

"Has this ever happened before? Any panic attacks prior to today?"

"No." I lie smoothly. I didn't need this woman sniffing around, trying to find out what was wrong. It wasn't going to happen again, or at least I hoped so.

"Can you tell me what may have triggered the attack?" Sarah smiles.

She has perfect teeth, all nice and white, neatly straight.

"I don't know." I lie again. I couldn't tell her what triggered my attack. I couldn't tell her that a boy kissed me, that I thought I was loosing my mind, that I wasn't in control of myself anymore.

That I was going crazy.

"Is there anything going on at home?"

"No." Nothing was ever going on at home. No one was there.

Sarah sighs; I can tell she's frustrated. I offer no help and wait for the next question.

"Well, I see that you're a very good student. Do you feel pressured to keep those grades consistent? Does it make you feel anxious?"

"Of course. I've always felt the need to maintain good marks." I reply, not really answering her question.

She writes something else down in her notebook.

"Is there anything happening at school that could have triggered your attack?"

"No." Another lie.

She looks at me like she doesn't buy it.

"Well," Sarah smiles. "If you ever need to talk, Bella, my door is open. I assume you know where I am."

I nod silently.

She leaves then and the nurse walks back in.

"Your mother is here, dear. She was called in."

I feel my eyes widen. My Mom was here? I was shocked, she actually left work. I feel a smile forming and I get up, and enter the little waiting area. I don't know why, but I was expecting a hug, or a smile, maybe even a pat on the back, but I got nothing. Instead my mother stood in the corner, her fingers moving furiously over her Black Berry's key board. I feel my heart deflate, my shoulders slumping.

She sees me standing there, having glanced up from her phone, "One moment."

I nod and turn to the nurse who was sitting behind her desk, "Did anyone bring my bag or anything?"

"No, it's still in your class, which is just ending now."

I nod, "Thanks."

I turn back to see my Mom still working on her phone, sighing I say, "I'm going to get my stuff, okay, Mom?"

She makes a sound of approval and I leave the Nurse's office. I'm assuming that I am going to go home now, since I really do not feel like sticking around. My head feels like it is stuffed with cotton balls and I'm all fuzzy.

I make it to my English class to see everybody leaving. They're all murmuring and whispering and my cheeks flame, knowing I was the talk of the class. The humiliation was nearly unbearable and I was wondering what they all were saying. Was it bad? Were they making fun of me? I didn't know. It all came to my ears in rushed, hushed whispers, which left a lot of room for assumption. A little too much room for my imagination.

I am about to walk in when Paul comes out holding my back pack. I feel my cheeks burn with twice the amount of embarrassment and I wouldn't be surprised if I was red as a fire truck right now. He sees me and walks over.

I can't tell what he's thinking by his blank expression and I don't know if I should be nervous about that or not. I don't dwell on it for long and Paul stops in front of me.

"I got your stuff for you."

"Thanks." I say and take my back pack and text book from him.

I am about to walk away when he asks, "You okay?"

"I had a panic attack, Paul; it's not a big deal." I snap, rolling my eyes.

"It seemed like a big deal." He replies, and I can feel him looking at me.

"Well, it's not like you care anyway, Paul. Don't even pretend like you do."

"Who says I'm pretending?" He asks, stepping a bit closer to me.

"Stay away from me, Paul, I mean it. I'm not playing this game with you. Between the mood swings and that little stunt you pulled this morning, I am just about ready to cut your dick off and feed it to you," I hiss angrily, glaring at him. "And do not reply with that egotistical bull shit about how it's not my decision, because it is. Stay away from me, Paul."

I walk away then, but Paul grabs my wrist, tugging me back. I wrench my hand of his grasp, and whirl around, "Don't!"

"Bella—"

"Don't even, Paul. Don't." I warn.

He glares down at me, and my own anger seems to grow. He had absolutely no right to be angry with me. I was the one who had a god damned panic attack because of his antics. I was the one who was feeling more than a little loose around the edges. I was the one falling apart here, trying to maintain sanity.

"Do not order me around." Paul snaps.

"Then don't order me around!"

"I'll do whatever I want—"

"Then why can't I, Paul? Why is it that you have all the freedom and I have none?"

"You know why, Bella." He says.

"I don't think I do, Paul."

"I don't need to explain anything to you."

"No?"

"No."

"You're such a dick, you know that? You play all these games and the moment you see the consequences, you ask if everything's okay, if I'm okay. Well, I'm not, Paul, and I really don't understand why you're asking in the first place." I speak quietly, not looking at him.

He just stands there, looking at me like I've got two heads.

I sigh, "Well, I shouldn't expect anything, it's not like you care, right?"

"Right."

**P ~ B**

My Mom drives me home, the silence in the car thick with the things left unsaid. My Mom offers no conversation and navigates the road quickly, as if in a rush to get me home. I sigh and look out the window. I sometimes wonder of my Mom ever wanted to be a parent. The way she acts would tell me she didn't, and I feel horrible for thinking that way. I didn't want to be ungrateful; she clothed me, fed me, put a roof over my head, some people my age had less. At the same time I wanted to know why she wouldn't talk to me. Was she some how ashamed of me? I knew my Mom was beautiful, perfectly slim and feminine. I wished I had taken after her side of the family, but instead I took after my Dad. I wanted to be like her, and then maybe she would actually acknowledge me. I knew it was foolish, childish to think this way, but I couldn't help but wonder if she wanted a prettier, smaller daughter.

We pull into the driveway and my Mom pauses there for a moment before asking me, "What happened, Bella?"

"I had a panic attack." Is my smart reply.

"I know," She says. "But why?"

"I don't know."

"Are you alright? Is everything okay with you?"

In that moment, I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to tell her that I felt like I was loosing my mind. I wanted to tell her all about Paul and Eli and what had happened this morning. I wanted to so badly that the words seemed to be piling up inside of me, filling my mouth, and I fumbled there for a moment, "Mom—"

I hear her cell phone ringing. She pauses for a moment, warring between listening to me, her daughter, and picking up her phone. She smiles at me weakly before reaching into her purse and answering her phone. She brings it to her ear, greeting the caller happily. I watch as my Mom does this and wait for the call to end. It's quick and she hangs up.

"You were saying?" My Mom asks, but it's too late.

My heart is at my throat when I murmur, "I was just going to thank you for picking me up and bringing me home. I just wanted to tell you that I'll be fine here on my own, you can go back to work."

"Are you sure?"

I just nod and she smiles.

"Well, I'll see you later then. I called Dad, and he'll drive your truck home from school."

"See ya." I mumble, hopping out of the car.

I walk into my house and kick my shoes off. I walk up the stairs feeling tired and drained of all energy. I collapse onto my bed once I reach my room, groaning. I close my eyes and will all of it away.

I feel so humiliated, so betrayed by it all. So I close my eyes and find my escape.

**P ~ B**

On.

Off.

On.

Off.

On.

Off.

I stare up at my ceiling, watch as the color changes without the light. I like my ceiling better in the dark, with my bedside lamp turned off. In the dark you can't see the cracks or uneven surface flaws. In the dark my ceiling is normal. But when the light is on, it's a mess. In the light I can see all the cracks that have been covered, but still remain. I can see all the fine lines and poorly done plastering.

I turn off the lamp.

Sighing quietly, I listen as the rain washes my window.

I am alone in the house.

Again.

I probably shouldn't be.

But I am.

I am left to think about all the cracks.

Immediately Paul's face flashes in my mind, but I shove it away. I know something is horribly wrong with Paul. Something is wrong with that boy. He had this frightening sense of entitlement that scared me. I didn't know what to do about it. I probably should report it, but really, who would listen? Our Reservation was not controlled or even looked over by the police of Forks. No charge would stick to Paul or anyone on the Reservation. Should I tell my father? I recoiled from the idea; I knew it would only make matters worse.

I glance over at my clock and see that it is seven o'clock. I notice my parents are an hour late in coming home and I decide that I am on my own for dinner. I opt to go to the Sue's Diner and make my way over.

I reach the Diner, the bell above the door clanging over ahead to announce my presence. I walk in and sweep my eyes over the people inside and find Eli settled amongst the patrons. My heart clenches inside my chest and I scurry up to the counter, slipping onto one of the stools.

Sue herself comes over and smiles at me warmly, "Hey, there, Bella, what can I get you tonight?"

Sue knew me well, I was in her at least once at week—whether it be for dinner or coffee.

"I think I'll have your Garden Salad, to go, please." I smile, not needing the menu.

She jots down my order, "I heard you had a little incident at school today. anything you want to tell me about?"

I blush, "Who else knows?"

"Everyone from here to Port Angeles." Sue says, sparing nothing and no one.

That's one thing that I can't stand about La Push. It was so small, so tiny that when anything happened, it was truly breaking news that traveled like wild fire. I just shake my head, "I'm fine."

"That's not what Leah says, she's in you're English class." Sue prods, referring to her daughter.

"I'm fine, Sue."

"Okay, whatever you say." She walks off.

I palm my face and groan inwardly.

Moments later my food is given to me in the fancy Styrofoam container and I leave the Diner. I am just in the parking lot when I hear my name being called. I turn around to see Eli walking out, headed towards me.

I wait for him, tongue tied and nervous.

"Hey," He stops in front of me, inspecting his shoes. "You okay?"

I nod quickly and remain silent.

He struggles for a moment, a perfect frown marring his features. He's about to say something else when I feel it. My hair's stand up on the back of my neck, and my spine straightens up—Paul's here.

I glance around and my answer is clear when I see him leaning on his car, just behind Eli. He looks pissed, and I want to tell him that this isn't what it looks like. I scowl and nearly die when Paul calls over, "What'cha doing, Bella?"

I freeze and I open my mouth.

Eli watches me and glances back at Paul. I fear for Eli in this moment and I know that we're in trouble when Eli calls back, "We're having a conversation here, man, it's none of you're business. But out."

My hearts in my throat when Paul pushes off his car, walking over to us lazily.

"Eli," I murmur. "Leave it."

Eli doesn't reply, turning to greet Paul instead.

"Bella is my business." Paul greets, as if he's stating that the sky is blue.

"Since when?" Eli bites back.

"Since I decided."

"Since you decided? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I know exactly who I am and what I can do."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really." Paul hisses.

They're both angry, and filled with testosterone. But, Paul seems even angrier than Eli. His jaw is clenched and he is trembling slightly. A tremor has attacked his hands, climbing his arms, and I watch in horror.

"So, you can just kiss girls whenever you want? Without permission?" Eli challenges.

"I don't need permission." Paul makes that sound again, something that isn't human.

"I'd say you do. You can't just go around kissing girls, especially if they don't want it."

"Did Bella look like she didn't want me?" Paul smirks, pulling his hands into threatening fists—as if to hide the shaking, but it's so clearly obvious to me.

"Shut up!" Eli snaps, shoving Paul.

But Paul doesn't even move. It's like he absorbs the shove before pushing Eli back.

Eli stumbles backwards, into me, knocking my dinner out of my hand. I catch Eli, righting him quickly. Paul is shaking in earnest now, and as freaked out by it as I am, I have to end this pissing contest now.

I step in between the two of them, "Enough!"

Eli looks like he wants to have another go, and Paul steps closer in response. I place a hand firmly on Paul's chest, and feel the trembling skin beneath.

"Enough, Paul," I push back, and it seems to work, Paul steps back. "Not here, not now, not ever."

I look at Eli, "Eli, go. Leave it."

Eli hesitates and I plead, "Just leave, Eli."

"Yeah, leave, Eli." Paul taunts and I step back in disgust.

I pick my Garden Salad up off the ground—it managed to stay inside the container—and whirl around, "You know what? Fine, enjoy yourselves. Knock yourselves out. Literally."

I stalk off then, angrily leaving the two boys behind. I didn't need this. I had had enough with Paul and his games, inserting himself where he wasn't needed or wanted. I was mess as it is, all done up in knots from today's events.

I was a little away from the Diner when a car saddled up alongside me. For some reason, without even checking, I knew it was Paul. I rolled my eyes when the passenger side window rolled down and Paul shouted, "Get in!"

I remained silent and kept on walking.

My solitude earned me a few yelled shouts, ordering me to "get in the fucking car" (Paul's words, not mine). I chanced a look over at him from the corner of my eye, and saw that he was watching with some sort of confused rage.

"Why won't you get in the car?"

I sighed, looking over at him, "I want to walk."

"But why? I can drive you home."

"Because I want to walk. Just because you _can_ do something, doesn't mean you _should_."

"I beg to differ."

"I can't say that I'm surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Paul asks.

I stop. "You're like a child, Paul. You don't think before you act and don't care about the consequences. You take and take or throw a tantrum when you don't get what you want. You don't know when to stop. Grow up, Peter Pan."

Paul, for once, is silent. I look at him with raised eyebrows before shaking my head and beginning to walk again.

"It's a good thing I don't care what you think."

"I don't expect you to."

"Do you really think that lowly of me?"

"Yes." I answer.

"Tell me how you really feel." Paul drawls sarcastically.

I roll my eyes at him and shake my head.

We're half way to my house when Paul asks, "What will it take for you to get in the car?"

I ignore him and remain silent.

"An apology?"

I snort at that. "I wouldn't dare ask you for an apology, Paul. You wouldn't mean it."

Paul laughs at that. "Very true. I don't apologize unless I mean it."

I stop again, "Why is it so important that I get in the car with you, Paul? I am perfectly fine to walk."

Something came over Paul's face and he stopped his car. He looked at the dark sky and shady forest before looking back at me.

"There are dangerous things out here, Bella, especially at night."

"It's La Push."

"Exactly," Paul answers cryptically and he sighs, "I promise to behave, okay? Just save me the worry and let me drive you home."

Worry? My eyes flash to his. Yeah, right, the only thing Paul would miss if I was hurt was the pleasure he took from messing around with me. Looking into Paul's eyes, I knew was screwed, in that moment I knew I'd do anything for Paul, if he asked nicely enough. I walked over to his car and he opened up the passenger side door for me.

I slipped inside and set my dinner down on my lap. We are both silent for the rest of the drive and I don't attempt to start conversation purposely. I think about Paul the entire way home, of course, and by the time we pull up to my house I am bubbling with curiosity. I wanted to know why he had chosen me to play this game with. What made me so special?

I pause for a moment, "Paul?"

"Yes?"

"Why me?"

Paul grunts.

"Why, Paul? You at least owe me that."

"I don't owe you anything."

"You're infuriating, you know that?" I snap, glaring at him.

"And you're annoying," He bites back harshly.

My blood runs cold in my veins, hurt sliding over my skin like ice water.

I roughly open the door, "Thanks for the ride."

I am halfway up the walk way to my house when I hear Paul call out to me, "Hey!"

I turn around, my heart thumping.

"I'll tell you, Bella, someday."

**A/N: What did you think? Was the panic attack too much? Too dramatic? Anyone warming up to Paul yet? **

**Let me know in a review.**

**Thanks for all the reviews so far and all the support. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**Playlist:**

**Tiny Glass Houses—Amelia Curran**

**Fall Apart—Helen Austin**

**Eyes on Fire—Blue Foundation **

**Grace Kelly—Mika**

**Until next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am so sorry. I know it has been very long since I last updated. Too long, in fact. I've just been so busy with real life that I didn't have a lot of spare time, and therefore, not much time to write. My sincerest apologies for taking so long to update.**

**Any way I hope you enjoy the chapter despite having to wait so long.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Just borrowing from S.M. because I can.**

**R&R**

**White Blank Page**

**Chapter Five: Quicksand**

"I heard she had, like, a panic attack or something. In the middle of class…" A short girl whispered to her friend beside her, glancing back at me.

My cheeks flame with embarrassment.

"I know," Her friend whispers back. "She probably faked it, you know, looking for attention."

My cheeks reddened even further as I sat down in my seat. People had been talking about what happened the other day for two days now. All my peers had their speculations about what had really gone down in my English class, and I was thoroughly embarrassed. People thought I had fainted, other's believed I truly had a panic attack, but the majority thought I had faked it. I wanted to tell them all that you couldn't fake passing out. I wanted to tell them that I wasn't a freak, that I wasn't a liar. I knew it wouldn't help my cause at all, if anything it would make it worse. I mean, I guess I was a freak, a weirdo, a crazy person, because, really, how many girls have a real panic attack in the middle of class?

I kept waiting for it to 'blow over' like my Mom said last night, but it doesn't look like it will anytime soon. I felt embarrassed anytime someone looked at me like they knew. It was even worse now because all the teachers knew, and kept asking me if I was alright. I was fine, just as good as when they asked me five minutes ago.

The worst was Paul.

How is it that he can be a jerk, a nice guy, and an outdated chauvinistic prick all at once? How do such contrasting personas all come together into one entity? Without being diagnosed with multi-personality disorder? I was having a hard time wrapping my brain around Paul. He didn't make any sense to me.

Between the brush-offs and sweet promises, I was wondering if maybe Paul was the crazy one between the two of us.

But at least he was constant. He had yet to stop staring at me and bothering me. It was a sort of addictive dance that Paul and I were participating in. One that was new to me, one that demanded a thick skin that was immune to his biting insults. But I wasn't. I never was. But what killed me was that it hurt so much—every insult felt like the first time, every angry stare made me flinch as if I hadn't experienced it prior.

I couldn't even begin to tell you where my head was at. It was a shit-storm of emotions and logics that had me trapped and confused. It felt as though I was permanently done up in knots. Knots that only Paul could unravel.

I wanted to ask him to untie these suffocating bindings, but I couldn't. I would choke on the words as he passed by me. My tongue would freeze in my mouth and by the time it thawed Paul was long gone. I didn't know how to confront him, not with his promise pressing firmly in my mind. But, when was 'someday'?

It didn't look soon.

I was walking to the cafeteria when I knocked into some guy.

"Watch where you're going!" He snaps.

"I-I—" I stumble.

"_I-I_ what, Swan? Having another one of you're panic attacks? Or are you just a freak?"

I feel the fear and hurt swell up inside and I clench my eyes closed.

"Well?"

"Shut the fuck up." I feel Paul behind me, speaking for me.

The look on the boy's face makes me smile with smugness. The fear there makes me grateful for Paul's interrupting defense. I watch as the he himself freezes, just as I did, paralyzed by his own fear.

"Apologize." Paul orders, a gritty edge to his voice.

"Sorry." The boy mutters, walking away.

I remain silent, watching him go. I don't turn to look at Paul.

"Thank you." I whisper.

"Don't mention it."

Something told me he meant it.

Literally.

I watch him go, my heart melting and hardening all at the same time. I didn't understand how Paul could do that to me. He could hurt me or make me happy with a few choice words—it was his choice. It shouldn't be, yet it was.

Sighing, I tuck a lose strand of hair behind my ear and make my way to the cafeteria. I sometimes felt so tiny and insignificant walking down these hallways. I mean, would I be remembered? As more than the token fat chick? Would people remember me, look back and say more than just that I was a nice girl? I knew that I wouldn't be much more than that to them. That when they reviewed their high school year books I wouldn't be more than a photo. A series of pixels that spell out a question mark—and it was up to me to change that.

I didn't know what to do with myself. I knew I was leaving—that was a given. I couldn't stay in this town much longer without loosing myself all together. I couldn't see myself here. I just couldn't, it wasn't about me being angry or bitter, it was simply that I wouldn't be able to handle it. I couldn't stay here with the same people and watch from the side lines.

I couldn't breathe here.

But I had to, for now, at least.

I push through the cafeteria doors and glance around. I see girls in clumps, sticking together as they twitter and giggle, and it gets a bit harder to breathe. I see Eli and my lungs are smaller, noticing that he's not alone. He's with some other guy. Some other friend that will be everything that he needs them to be. A small corner of my heart is smiling as the rest clenches painfully. I quickly move my eyes away, focusing them on the floor. I make my way to the table I usually sit at and plant myself down. I sit there for a moment, truly resting as I take in the weight.

I wonder why I can't be strong enough to handle this. So many are. I think of the people halfway across the world, living day-to-day with hardships greater than mine. I bet they don't crumble under the pressure of a few words. Yet I do, and I feel so pathetic and ashamed because of it.

I try not to think about it as I pull out my lunch. I am just opening the brown paper bag up when I hear the most pleasing of sounds. Paul's laughter reaches my ears from his table, a few meters away—it's deep and rich like the fall. It makes me smile.

I like the sound of it, the look of his smile and lightness of his eyes.

I watch for a moment, a small indulgence, and I wonder just what has made him laugh. I look to the other guys at the table and see that they are laughing with him. I smile softly and find that Paul is much nicer from afar.

When I can't hear his hurtful words.

When he seems nice.

When he's everything I want him to be.

When he's everything I need him to be.

But he's not.

I know this the moment his laughter cuts off when he catches me staring. The look on his face wipes the smile from my own, and a confusing pain blooms in my chest. He looks so upset, so angry, as if I ruined it. I look down at my hands, fat and chubby lying out on the lunch table. I breathe in sharply through my nose and feel hurtful embarrassment pool my cheeks. Moving quickly, I toss my lunch back into my bag and flee from the cafeteria, but more importantly, Paul.

**P ~ B**

I love the smell of fall—aging trees and crisp leaves. I take a deep breath in and enjoy the feeling of the autumn sun on my skin. It's cold but warm I note, a smile tugging on my dry lips.

I am lying on the lawn by the cafeteria, the small square of greenery acting as my resting place. I enjoy the silence; focus on the sensation of my skin greedily soaking up the precious Vitamin D. I have managed to clam mind as I quietly take some time for myself. I've decided to skip fourth period, after all, a little skipping never hurt anyone, now did it?

My eyes are closed to the outside world and all I see is the pinky swirls that are painted across my lids. I see a dark shadow through my lids; someone is standing in front the sun. I squint through my eyes, taking in the long legs clothed in dark denim and the black t-shirt hiding a trimmed torso. I allow my eyes to settle on Paul's face and frown up at him.

"Skipping?" Paul asks, looking down at me.

I close my eyes, sarcasm heavy on my tongue, "What does it look like?"

Paul's silent for a moment as he stands over me. Then I feel him lay down next to me and a spark of excitement bursts in my belly. I feel a small smile teasing at my lips, but I quickly hide it. Silence stretches between us and tension fills my lungs. What do I say? Should I speak? Risk sounding stupid? Desperate?

Paul saves me though.

"I never pegged you for a skipper, Swan."

His voice is deep and warm as the sun on my skin and I smirk.

"No?"

"Nah. But it's always the quiet ones."

I open my eyes again. "Skipping never hurt anyone."

I feel his eyes on me. "I can never tell with you."

I look over at him, a blush on my cheeks, "What do you mean?"

He looks away, squinting up at the sun, "I don't know. You never do or say what I expect."

I snort. "I do everything that you expect, Paul."

Paul sighs. It's heavy, laden with secrets and information I am desperate to know. Silence consumes conversation again and I weave my fingers through the grass. I accidently brush Paul's hand and I quickly draw my hand back from his scorching heat. But just as quickly as I draw my hand away, Paul brings it back, laying it softly on the ground. Something blooms in my heart, warm and over powering.

"How do you do that?" I whisper.

"Huh?"

"You treat me like shit one moment…and then the next, you're nice."

Another sigh from his lips. "I don't know, Bella."

I look over at him again.

He's so nice on the outside.

On the surface without any cracks or flaws.

I wonder what its like on the inside.

"You do though, Paul, you do know." I insist.

His dark eyes meet mine. "I don't, Bella. You…you make me feel things I've never felt before. I don't know anything anymore."

My heart swells in my chest, ballooning and lifting up into my throat. I look away quickly, not knowing if it's true or if this is just another one of his games. I feel his heavy gaze, stirring my heart, tugging on its strings. I feel so hopelessly head over heels here, under his heady spell. I abruptly sit up, drawing my knees up to my chest.

"What are you doing to me?" I whimper.

Paul sits up as well, silent as ever when answering my questions.

It's quiet for a few moments, and I am tempted to leave when Paul finally speaks.

"I'm sorry, Bella."

My head swivels towards his direction, shock plainly written across my face, I would imagine.

He looks at me, something written in his eyes, but I can't read it in the darkness there. I frown at him and he breathes in shakily.

"I'm sorry for everything I've done to you. I'm sorry for how much I've hurt you over the past month or so. I can't say why, because I don't know why…I'm just…I'm sorry."

I am silent for a moment.

"It's okay," I whisper, even though I know it's not. "It's okay."

Paul looks at me, disappointment clear in his eyes. "No it not, and you know it."

I stare into his eyes for another moment before breaking the link. But I still feel it, this bond swimming between the two of us.

"I've tried so hard to stay away from you." I hear Paul murmur and my chest constricts. "But I can't anymore. I probably should, but I can't. I'm just so tired."

I look back at him. "You've tried?"

He clenches his jaw. "I've tried, yes."

I look away and let the silence stretch on. Anger burns in my belly because he's kept everyone away from me but himself. I scowl, yanking the grass from the ground.

"You've done no such thing." I snap, throwing a glare at him. "You've kept everyone but yourself from me."

"I know." He smirks, a hint of pride slipping into his eyes.

I shake my head at him, a sneer curling my lip.

"But I can't anymore. I can't keep away from you, Swan. I'm sorry that I've been so mean."

"Are you really?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me why you can't stay away from me."

"No." His voice is hard, definite, leaving no room for negotiation.

I nod and pick at the grass around my feet.

"What are we doing, Paul?" I ask, still plucking innocent greenery from the cold earth.

An answering sigh does nothing to quell my burning curiosity.

"I don't know."

"Do you know anything?" I snap, none too nicely.

"Piss off, Swan. You don't know anything about me." He sneers.

"And you know nothing of me. Yet you stake claim, tease and torment me. Who are you, Paul?"

My glare is scathing, rivaling Paul's as we enter into a stand off. I couldn't believe this boy—he dares to apologize, yet, moments later, he is just as mean. My lip curls at the bitter taste of contempt in my mouth and I pull my eyes away. I move to stand but Paul grabs my wrist, an iron shackle.

I jerk my hand away, "Don't."

Paul glares a burning ire there that is capable of anything, and leans in, a rough edge, "I don't remember telling you to leave."

I am frozen for a moment and soon it is all too much. A hysterical bubble of laughter escapes my tight throat. It is a sinful sound, sick and wrong, but I can't seem to stop. Paul looks at me like I'm crazy and I know I am.

"I'm sorry," I stifle a giggle. "But this is ridiculous."

Paul's eyes are painted with worry and I don't like it. It appears as though my mind has snapped, unable to handle the strain of Paul's torment. I lay back down, sliding my hands in the grass, deep into the dirt so that I feel like I'm apart of it. I calm myself, quiet my giggles and find the silence unbearable.

Paul lies back down beside me and his eyes are on me yet again. I feel them roaming across my round face and without even meaning to I glance over at him, whispering, "If I disgust you so, Paul; inspire so much hatred in your soul—why do you look at me?"

"Because I have to." Paul says.

I don't know what has happened, how we come to this state of open honesty in our grassy encounter, but I can't bring myself to care. For if I dare to think about this for too long or too hard, I will surely ruin it. I don't stop looking at him, shamelessly taking inventory.

"You have nice lips." I blurt out, blushing like mad.

"Do I?" Paul smirks.

"Yes," I sigh. "But you've got the ugliest mouth."

Paul just shakes his head, "There you go again, Swan, saying stuff I never expect."

I smile saccharine sweet at him and look up at the clouds. They are painted grey, unremarkable in their presence and I wonder if that's how people see me. A grayish unremarkable entity.

I close my eyes and which the ground would swallow me up. It would be so much easier for both Paul and I if I didn't exist. If I wasn't this way. But I was the way I was and I was here. I feel a frown form upon my brow and am shocked when I hear Paul's voice, "Don't frown."

I squint at him through my lids, and frown harder, if that's even possible. He looks at me and laughs, "Okay! Frown all you want, but it doesn't suit you, Swan."

I roll my eyes at him and curse under my breath.

Paul laughs all the more and it seems that Paul is always laughing at me.

The thought stirs up a hurt inside and my heart constricts—I really was a joke. I bet he told Sam and all the guys about all the stupid things I say. Really, who tells a guy he has nice lips? I do. I'm such an idiot.

The burn of my embarrassments and shame presses against me and I get up awkwardly, "I've got to go."

"Why?" Paul questions immediately.

"Because." I childishly retort, picking up my knapsack.

Paul stands up, rising gracefully from the ground. He's almost too smooth, too coordinated, if you ask me. It appeared as though Paul did not have one awkward bone in his body.

He is quiet for moment, "Is it because I laughed at you?"

"No, of course not, Paul, you've done worse than laugh at me." I mutter, sliding my backpack on.

"Then what is it?" He demands.

"No reason. I just want to leave."

"What if I don't want you to leave?" Paul counters with a dangerous tenderness in his eyes.

"Doesn't matter," My voice is weak. "I'll leave whether or not you want me to stay."

"That's not true, Swan, and you know it." Paul says, stepping a bit closer to me.

How is he so warm I wonder, feeling his body heat. I shake my head, my body feeling strange and nothing like my own. Paul's doing things to me, dangerous things. My lower abdomen pulses as if to agree and I resist the undeniable urge to touch Paul. My eyes are drawn to his and I find that I know he is right. I wouldn't be able to leave, not if Paul wanted me to stay.

I feel a frown forming on my brow and Paul, with surprising easy openness, brings a hand to my brow, gently smoothing away the wrinkles with the pad of his thumb. The heat of his touch is enough to make me flinch back and gasp even though I've felt it before.

Something flashes in Paul's eyes and he draws his hand back. I feel guilt churning in my gut and I am tempted to apologize to the rugged boy before me. I watch as a frown forms on his brow, his eyes focused on his feet and my heart thumps wildly in my chest as I raise a trembling hand. I am about to do the same for Paul when he catches my wrist, arching a sinful brow, "What are you doing?"

My wrist burns under his touch. "I-I-uh…"

Paul leans in, his voice a hard whisper, "You only get to touch me when I say so."

My heart clenches painfully in my chest and I nod feebly pulling my wrist away. I feel tears pressing against the back of my eyes and I clench them shut, resisting the urge to cry in response to my thwarted touch. Am I really that repulsive?

My lower lip trembles. "Do I really repulse you that much, Paul?"

Paul's eyes soften for a moment and then they freeze, a tough shield sliding over that softness. I hold my breath and release it is a choked gasp when I hear his answer.

"Maybe."

The simple word strikes my heart and I stumble away, tears welling up.

"Wait," Paul says, watching as I back away. "I didn't mean it—I"

"You wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it," I sniffle pathetically, blinking back the tears. "I can't blame you for being honest, right?"

"I didn't mean it, Bella, it was a joke."

"Is everything a joke to you? Am I?"

"Of course not," He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You're anything but a joke."

I shake my head at him, "Somehow I have a hard time believing that."

"Then don't." He snaps.

"Do you even care if I do or don't?"

"No."

"You're not sorry at all, are you? For anything you've done?"

"No." But it sounds like a yes.

My heart hammers in my chest as I face him. It's one step forward, two steps back with Paul. I feel sick and cold and unwelcome so I begin to back away, "Bye, Paul."

He watches me go and can't help but wonder if he wanted me to stay.

**P ~ B**

I take a deep breath in, my nose familiar with the pleasurable scent of print and paper. I sigh as I enter the book store, finding a little square of peace as I walk down the aisles. This was my space, my however many square feet in which I can forget it all. It here, in the old book store, that I can breathe. That I can finally relax.

I am tucked away in the corner, sitting in an old chair that has seen better days. The leather is worn and faded but I like it all the same. I open the book of my choice and begin to read. Despite the comfortable surroundings, the atmosphere that I am oh-so-familiar with, I still cannot seem to focus on anything but Paul.

I wondered what was up with him. I was past kidding myself, I knew now Paul was not normal, and not just because of his estranged sense of entitlement. Something was going on with Paul and I was damn near positive it had everything to do with Sam Uley and his Disciples.

I had no theories that belonged to logics, and I wanted to laugh at myself for the things I had considered. I had considered everything from evil villain to admirable protector, including super powers and the supernatural. But nothing seemed to fit with Paul. Who was he? But more importantly _what_ was he? I knew that no boy was this possessive, or territorial, or so ill-tempered that he positively shook with the force of his rage.

Sighing I snap the book shut and lay it down upon my lap. I close my eyes and wish all the thoughts of Paul away. I didn't even want to challenge what my heart made of Paul. I was so desperate and pathetic around Paul. So unsure, looking towards him for confirmation.

The habit was natural when around Paul—to look to him for confirmation, that is. it felt necessary and natural as I sought out his approval. I somehow was constantly thinking about how _Paul_ would react. How _Paul_ would feel. What _Paul_ would think. But, fuck, what about _me_?

I run a hand through my hair and decide that my safe heaven in the Port Angeles book store was anything but safe. Nothing was safe anymore, I thought as I got up, returning the book to the shelf I found it on.

The drive home was uneventful and all too soon I was back at home. I am outside, sitting on my back deck. I press my face in my palm and wonder what I am doing. With Paul. With my life. With everything.

I feel overwhelmed and lost, the waves of confusion threatening to drown me. I look out from my perch, seeing the gray sky and tall intimidating trees. I wonder what it would be like to just walk away, to leave it all behind and walk into the forest, let it swallow you whole.

My toes twitch in my sneakers.

Temptation, you tease me so.

I ban the dangerous thoughts from my mind, thinking of Paul who had told me himself that there were things to be feared in La Push. But how did he know exactly? Who was he to have such knowledge?

I purse my lips and ignore my twitchy toes.

How bad could it be really?

I mean, what was there, bears? Elk? Deer?

I move to stand before sitting back down again.

Fuck it.

I abruptly stand up and walk purposefully towards the forest.

I knew I was being stupidly foolish.

The thought didn't deter me, not even when I set my first foot in the forest.

It smells wonderful.

Feels wonderful.

So then, really, it must be just that, wonderful.

I pause for a moment, deciding if I really want to do this.

I could get lost.

No one would miss me.

A breeze whispers in my ear and I peer into the forest.

Something was there.

I could feel it watching me.

I step forward, threatening to cross over.

I hear a twig snap, sending my heart into a frenzy.

I search the trees, my eyes probing desperately only to find nothing.

I step back.

My legs are shaking and my heart is hammering.

I retreat, rushing towards my back door as I look behind me.

Neck craning to see what I can't.

I shiver when I feel the eyes on me.

I see two eyes glowing in the dark.

Someone was watching me.

Or was it something?

The thought sends me over the edge and I scramble up the steps and enter the house through the back door. My heart hammers in my chest and my breath catches in my lungs. I stand there for a moment, chest heaving with the beat of my heart and chalk it up to an over active imagination.

Nothing had been there?

Right?

Then how can I still see those eyes?

Sitting in the dark.

Watching.

Waiting.

Darkly glowing.

My stomach lurches.

A cool sweat forms on my brow and I walk into the living room. I clumsily flop onto the couch, cradling my head in my hands as I rock back and forth. I yank at my hair and tears form. What was happening?

I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt roughly and let out an anguished sob.

"What the fuck is going on?" My voice is caught in my throat, coming out as nothing more than a strangled shriek.

I curl up on the couch, clenching my eyes shut.

But I can still see them.

Feel them on my skin.

I shudder and push it away.

It never happened I decide.

It couldn't have.

**P ~ B **

I stare out my kitchen window, located jut above the sink, and analyze the forest. It's darker out now, much darker than before, but still I see those eyes. I shudder, washing the pot I made soup for myself in for dinner. I am just running it under the water when I feel it again.

I'm being watched.

My breath stutters in my throat.

Was it the same thing, the same person from before?

I turn the tap off with shaking hands and set the pot down in the sink.

I am summoning the courage to look up when there's a sharp rap on my front door.

My heart leaps in my chest, hitting the back of my throat and landing at my feet.

I pause for a moment, and look at my door.

There's another knock.

I grab the butter knife from the counter (I had used it earlier to cut up some bread to go with my soup) and slowly make my way to the front door.

The metal is cool but hot in my hand and I press it against my leg, grasping the door knob in my hand.

My heart is hammering.

I open the door just a bit.

Enough to see that it my tormentor knows no bounds.

My heart slows into a slightly calm rhythm, or as calm as it could be when I was around Paul. I take in his leather boots, scuffed and well worn and my eyes dance up his legs laden with dark denim. My eyes sweep up to his face.

"What do you want?" I snap with a firm scowl in place.

He raises his eyebrows at me. "I'm good, Bella, thanks for asking."

"I'd have asked if I'd been interested."

"You are. You just won't admit it to yourself. I simply did it for you."

His arrogance was astonishing.

"What do you want?"

"Won't you invite me in?"

I falter. "Why?"

"Bad storm is rolling its way in. Your Dad called Sam and told him to check on you." He states and it is only now that I notice the impressive winds that bend the trees back, howling as they do so.

I nod, noting that instead of coming home, my father sends someone to do his bidding. He sends one of the Disciples to check on me. My Father was a close friend of the Council, and by association, Sam and his posse. He often assisted the council, hell, he was practically on it he was so involved.

"Okay," I open the door a bit more. "But you're not Sam, Paul."

"Would you rather I was?" His tone is dark and he steps forward, forcing me to step back and open up some more.

"No."

"Exactly," Paul smirks. "Now, if you're quite finished, I'd like to come in. Before the storm starts."

"Okay." I whisper as I step back and let him in.

He walks in with a satisfied smile that quickly drops when he sees the butter knife clenched tightly in my fist.

"Scared of something, Bella?" He asks, grabbing my wrist and gently uncurling my fingers from around the knife.

My fingers tremble as he disarms me, removing the knife.

"Girl's gotta protect herself, right?" I laugh nervously.

I wasn't so sure if I should have let Paul in so easily.

Had my Dad even called to have someone check on me?

The doubt is potent as I watch Paul curl is own fingers around the knife.

My heart thuds a little quicker when he runs the thumb of his other hand over the dull blade.

I look away, gulping nervously.

Cool metal pressed against the bottom of my chin makes me lift my face.

"Are you scared, Bella?"

"No." Yes.

He leans in, tracing the line of my soft jaw with the tip of the blade, "No?"

"No." I say. But it really means yes.

He smirks at me, pressing the blade against my cheek. "You should be."

I jerk away, fear dictating my actions.

Paul laughs, and steps away, sauntering into the kitchen.

"Relax, dear Bella, I'd never harm you."

I somehow doubt him.

"Promise?" My voice is weak as I watch him set the butter knife down in the kitchen sink.

"Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye." He swears with a sinful smirk that has my panties in a bunch.

He smiles at me, a toothy, wolfish grin that I don't trust.

I watch him nervously as he peeks out the kitchen window. He goes rigid.

"You can see a lot here."

I just nod.

"My Mom had a window put there when I was little. So she could watch me."

Paul hums and turns away from the window, redirecting his attention to me.

Thunder rumbles over head and the wind howls louder, rattling the windows.

"How bad is the storm supposed to be?" I ask, looking into his dark eyes.

"However bad we make it."

**A/N: I know. It's been absolutely forever since my last update, my sincerest apologies but real life just got in the way.**

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter despite the long wait. **

**Playlist:**

**Dull Life—Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Shame and Fortune—Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Crawl—Kings of Leon**

**Quicksand—La Roux**

**So what did you think?**

**Worth the wait?**

**Too edgy?**

**Still not liking Paul?**

**Let me know.**

**R&R**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I know! I know! This chapter is horribly over due and long awaited! **

**All I can do is apologize for my lateness.**

**I'm sorry…and well yeah, I'm sorry. **

**What can I say? Real life got in the way.**

**Hope you enjoy and its worth the wait!**

**White Blank Page**

**Chapter Six: Kiss with a Fist**

I want to laugh at what he just said, but fear has sucked all the air from my throat making it dry and tight. I watch Paul cautiously, hovering in the doorway of my kitchen. He was such an enigma, one that I could quite seem to figure out at any given moment. My eyes follow him, trace the outline of his form and I wonder why he is here in my kitchen. I frown and try to keep the fear at bay—something was off about Paul, he was unhinged, off-kilter, more so than usual, in a frightening way.

My heart flutters in my chest with nothing but fear. "I-Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Paul smiles, that wolfish, disarming smile. "Why wouldn't it be?"

I let out a strangled sort of sound, feeling trapped. I wanted him out of my house, right now. My skin was raised, the hairs on the back of my neck tingling with warning and I didn't know how to get him to leave. My stomach clenched, feeling like it was being wrung inside out. I mutter a low, 'never mind' and return to my observation.

Paul doesn't return my stare, moving easily about my kitchen, snooping and poking around. My heart thuds in my chest and time is crawling by, only adding to my growing anxiety. Thunder booms overhead and my eyes are quick to look up, wondering if it was even safe for Paul to go home in this whether.

"Well," I exhale shakily. "I'm fine, so, you, um, don't have to stick around."

Paul ignores me and turns his attention to the walls of my kitchen, decorated with my childhood art. I watch, silent as ever, tongue rolled up and at the back of my throat. I want to tell him to leave but the words just won't come to me, head my tongue. I feel butterflies knock about in my stomach, making me feel sick.

He examines each picture like it's his job, occasionally looking at me. I don't meet his gaze though and settle into a kitchen chair. He fingers the one of a night sky, one of the better pieces done by my eight year old self. He runs his fingers over the night sky, "I like it."

I blush. "Good."

"How old were you when you painted it?"

"Eight."

"Impressive."

"Not really. Every kid messes around with paint."

"I didn't." Paul mumbles, stepping away from the picture.

I remain silent, offering nothing to him.

He looks into my eyes.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Do you want to stay?" I counter, raising a single eyebrow. He scowls, running a hand through his hair. Something was wrong with Paul, and not in a general sense—I don't know how, but I could just tell—something was upsetting him. He does not reply so I venture out.

"Are you okay, Paul?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem like it."

"Drop it, Swan." His command lands a brick of embarrassment in my stomach and I look away.

_God forbid someone asks a question you don't like_, I inwardly grumble, worrying my lower lip. I remain silent, my irritation the fuel to my angry fire.

"Leave." I snap, standing up abruptly.

Paul looks at me with raised eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"Yes seriously!" I practically shout. "You can't come in here, into my house, into my life, and act like you're in charge! I can't do this anymore! I won't, I swear on all that's holy, I won't, Paul!"

He is completely unphased, "And what are you going to do, Bella?"

I snapped. "What am I going to do?" I shouted. "I am so sick and tired of that! You acting like you're absolutely untouchable, like you're so god damned special that you're beyond any punishment! Well you've got another thing coming, Paul, because I won't stand for it any longer! Not when I've got the guidance counselor at school, breathing down my neck about why I had a panic attack in the middle of class! I'll tell her the truth—that a boy, a fucking infuriating boy, has been tormenting me for the past month and a half to an extent where I am literally going crazy!"

I glare at him, huffing and puffing with the force of my anger.

"You had that panic attack because of me?"

"Of course I fucking did you ass hat!" I screech. "I was fine before you, you know that? My life may have been boring at best but it was easy, simple, and manageable for Christ's sake! But then you—you changed all that! You waltzed in like you owned it, like you had every right to fuck with me! Well you didn't and you don't! I refuse to let you walk all over me!"

"Don't blame all this shit on me, Bella! It's not my fault that you're so fucking insecure that you can barely function!" Paul shouts back.

"I was managing those _insecurities_ just fine before, Paul! But _you_ made them worse!"

"Fuck off, Swan! Get some confidence and suck it up!"

"How can I?" I cried. "How, Paul? How can I with people like you putting me down, humiliating me? _How_?"

"You stand up."

"You won't let me—you just push me back down."

"I do not. I make you stand up. I force that god damn non-existent back bone to make an appearance." He declares.

"Really?" I scoff. "That's the thought you're comforting yourself with?"

"No. It's the truth."

"Last time I checked harassing someone was not helping them."

"God forbid I try to help you, make stronger and not use roses and chocolates to do it!"

"I'm not asking for roses and rainbows or chocolates, Paul! I'm asking for respect!"

"You've got to earn my respect, Bella!" He yells.

Thunder roars above our heads as we argue, lightening flashes and the rain slaps against the window. But that doesn't stop me from yelling right back or him from yelling at me. But all shouting is ceased when the power cuts out.

My heart is thudding, I can feel it pounding against my chest as I curse, "Shit!"

Ever since I was little, I had never liked the dark. It wasn't like I slept with a nightlight or anything, but I always felt disarmed and vulnerable in the dark. But the darkness seemed even worse, especially with Paul here.

I take in a deep breath and shuffle around until I find the cupboard that has the flash lights. I grab one quickly and flick it on. The brightness is damn near painful for a moment as my eyes adjust. I make a broad sweep with it and discover that Paul has not moved an inch; rather, he looks quite relaxed, like the power hadn't just cut out.

I swallow thickly, noticing how quiet it is. But I refuse to feel bad for yelling at Paul or for finally speaking my mind. I am quiet as I ponder what Paul had said to me. Was he truly trying to help me? Help construct my back bone? I struggle to believe the concept and abandon it quickly, knowing that if I did indeed rationalize it, I would be in danger of giving him an excuse to insult me regularly. But what if he was trying to make me stronger, however, the real question was: why did he need me strong?

I look at Paul, directly in the eye, and for once, fear doesn't grab at my belly. For once I feel like I am level with him, like I too can throw all the sharp words around, not caring where they land or how badly it may hurt.

I don't want to be the first to break the silence.

I didn't want to be the first to break.

I couldn't.

Not any more.

He sighs loudly and says, "Would you mind pointing that flashlight elsewhere?"

"Don't like when people can see you, Paul?"

"Clever, Swan."

"I try."

"I know you do. You try way too hard."

"To do what?"

"To impress me." He teases.

"Oh yeah," I say, sarcasm coating my tongue. "For sure."

We are silent for another moment.

"I have a proposition for you, Swan," Paul says, walking over to stand in front of me (he had been on the other side of the island in my kitchen). "If you'd like to listen."

"Okay." I eye him suspiciously.

"I want to be friends."

I guffaw, a loud laugh that sounded like a cackle. "You want to be friends, with _me_, Paul?"

"Yes."

"Do you even know what a _friend_ is?"

"Yes," Paul snaps. "Of course I do."

"Do you know _how_ to be one?" I retort.

"Well you'll never know if you don't let me try."

"Why should I?" I ask honestly, walking away to get some candles to light.

He is quiet and only speaks when I come back with some tiny tea-light candles.

"Because I want to be friends with you."

"What if I don't want to be friends with you?"

"Irrelevant." He jokes, but I know, just based on that look in his eyes, that he is serious.

"Paul," I sigh, lighting the first candle. "Why do you want to be friends? For the past month or so you've been jerking me around."

"I just do. Is it so bad that I want to know you, Bella?"

"Yes. You're dangerous, in more ways than one." I light another candle.

"You're right," Paul says. "But that doesn't matter, I meant what I said—I'd never hurt you."

"You already have." I stare at the flame as it engulfs the wick.

"Hey," He says. "I know I have, but, I promise to do my best and not hurt you anymore. I want to know you, Bella. You're the only person I've ever wanted to know before."

My eyes flash to his, my heart confined to my chest as it bats against it. I don't know what to say, what to do. So I just look into his dark eyes, searching for the proof I need to confirm his promise.

He raises a hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, "Please, Bella, let me know you."

My heart was crying out yes, but my mind, so weary and jaded denies his plea. I frown and he remains silent, drawing his hand away. His touch leaves a fiery trail down my jaw and I shudder against the tingling sensation.

I struggle to give him an answer, to give him the one he wants.

He steps closer.

I can feel him.

His brazen heat burning me.

I want to reach out and touch.

I want to feel.

But I can't.

I turn my face away in an attempt to hide myself from him. I feel his hand reach out and cup my cheek, slowly guiding it so that my face is towards him. I close my eyes and feel the heat of his hand warm my cheek. I let my lids lift and know in this instant that I can't be friends with this boy.

Not with his hand on my cheek.

Not with that sweetness swimming in his eyes, daring me to drown.

I bring my hand up to his wrist; gently pull his hand down and away from me and whisper, "No."

He clenches his jaw shut, a sharp edge giving it more definition.

His chin lifts slightly and he steps back.

Away from me.

I chew the inside of my cheek to keep all the emotions at bay.

Why does this feel so painful?

He begins to tremble and I reach out to touch him, to calm him when he jerks away.

Tears rise up.

But I keep them down.

He looks at me angrily, as though I had committed a sin that would shame the devil himself, and snarls, "No?"

"I can't, Paul."

"Why not?" He demands, looking equally hurt and angered.

"Because you'll hurt me," I cry, and the first tear falls. "I maybe a lot of things—but I am not willing to subject myself to your brand of cruelty on a regular basis!"

My lower lip trembles under the strain of my words and I inhale shakily, roughly wiping away my tears.

"Stop crying." He says coldly.

I just lower my head and attempt to pull myself together.

My hiccupping breaths are loud despite the storm that rages outside.

I wipe my tears, and look at him with a mad blush staining my cheeks.

"I don't like when people cry," Paul says, looking down at his feet. "Listen, I'm sorry for today. I'm sorry for everything."

"Are you really?"

"Yes."

"How can I even trust that?"

My body is cold but hot as I argue with him and my gut feels like it's trying to turn itself inside out.

"Stop thinking," Paul whispers, stepping closer. "Just feel."

Temptation is on my lips.

But I want it on my tongue.

I want to just feel.

But I know I will be hurt.

I know my heart is not strong enough to survive this.

To survive him and all his sharp words.

I want to turn him away.

To deny him what he is asking.

"Get out."

My voice is low, quiet, as I deliver the order.

"Bella—"

"Get out!" I yell.

He goes to say something and I yell again, "Get out! Get out! Get out, get _out_!"

He clenches his jaw, "This isn't over."

The door slams behind him as he leaves and I fold in on myself, collapsing onto the tiled floor. I am this heaving, blubbering mess, mourning for something that I know I've lost. I didn't know what though. Paul proposed friendship, but I didn't feel like I could ever be a friend to him. Not with this magnetic pull that had me more twisted than a contortionist. I pull my knees up to my chest and try to stop the tears. But they are relentless as they pour down my cheeks. I didn't know what I had just happened but I had a feeling that it wasn't good. I should have just said yes and risked it all.

**P ~ B**

The notion that I should have just said yes was only confirmed on Monday when I walk into the cafeteria and see Paul sitting at my table. I freeze in the doorway, torn between not entering altogether or just avoiding him and sitting at a different table. My plans are thwarted though when he sees me and crooks his finger.

My heart is thrumming in my chest like a great drum.

Paul beckons for me again and my feet move forward as if they've got a mind of their own and I want nothing more than to flee. The drumming of my heart goes faster, louder, and it's so great that I swear everyone can hear it.

"What?" I snap as I sit down, not at all pleased with his presence (though my heart would tell you otherwise).

Paul sighs and asks, "Have you changed your mind?"

"No." I whisper, nervously nibbling on my lower lip.

"Why, Bella?"

"You know why." I hiss at him, glaring.

He clenched his jaw and made that weird sound, "I told you that I would change that. That I wouldn't hurt you."

"Fine," I huff. "Let's say you do change that. Let's say you manage to never hurt me again. But what about everything else? What about all the freaky shit? The sense of entitlement? The fact that you growl? The fact that you shake when you're angry? What about that, Paul?"

He sighs deeply, and roughly runs a hand through his hair, "I can't tell you right now."

I remain silent for a few moments before saying, "How long will I have to wait?"

He frowns, "Until you're ready."

"When I'm ready?"

"Yes."

"What does that even mean, Paul?"

"It means," He roughly runs a hand through his hair. "That I will tell you when I think you can handle it."

"No." I deny, shaking my head. "I refuse to be strung along for God knows how long, waiting on _you_ of all people."

"What that supposed to mean?" Paul scowls, leaning forward. "That you think I won't tell you at all?"

"You're word is worth shit, Paul," I snap. "So, forgive me, if I don't agree to your terms as quickly as you'd like."

Paul scowls before sighing, "Well, I can't do much then, because I am not telling you now. I can't risk it."

"What if you told me in one month?"

"One month?" Paul snorts.

"Yes," I snap. "One month for you to get your shit together and prepare me for this grand unveiling."

"Six weeks, at a minimum."

"No." I snap, huffing. "A month."

"Five weeks then." Paul amends.

I stare at him, feeling that intoxicating link. He was so intriguing that I felt this pull, this need—like an itch I had to scratch. It was everything. I craved the sound of his voice. My ears strained every time he spoke, trying to appreciate his rich tone to the best of their ability. My hands tingled with desire to touch him, and I actively had to stop the sinful thoughts that ran rampant in my mind. My chest tightened, my lungs shrank and my heart was out of control around him. _I_ was out of control around him.

My dry lips had parted; I wet them with my tongue, watching as Paul follows the motion with his eyes, "Fine. Five weeks, Paul, and I want to know everything. No extensions, you got it?"

He nods, "Agreed, then?"

I stick out my hand, craving his warm touch, "Agreed."

He takes my hand in his and my whole arm is engulfed with a tingling fire. It crawls up my arm up my neck so that the hairs are standing up on the nape of it. I shiver as the electric burn rushes down my spine and rolls across my torso to throb in my lower abdomen. Paul's eyes flash with a knowing glint and I jerk my hand away.

"Friends, Bella?" Paul asks, leaning back with a small smile.

"Something like that." I mumble.

He chuckles and my lips pull up into a smile.

I could do this.

I could be friends with Paul.

For just five weeks.

Right?

**P ~ B**

It turns out that Paul, when he is really trying, can be nice. I sat and had lunch with him without being insulted or belittled. I actually smiled, laughed and suddenly knew that Paul wasn't as bad as I thought he was.

I should rephrase that, Paul wasn't as bad as I thought he was _today_. I was slowly discovering that nothing was consistent with Paul. I knew that he could change drastically just by one simple comment or if he woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I knew that Paul had a bad temper and I would be wise to tread carefully behind him.

But for now, today, Paul was nice.

He was charming and smart.

He was exactly the guy I wanted him to be.

I knew though that this guy may very well be leaving soon.

I tried not to think about that and instead looked down at my watch, checking the time. I saw that lunch was almost over and my heart felt a bit heavier in my chest. I didn't want my time with Paul to end, especially when he was actually being nice.

"I'll walk you to class." Paul says, grabbing the apple I didn't eat from the table. He takes a huge chunk from it, and it is then that I notice that Paul has had a lot of food.

I glance at him, "Where does it all go?"

"Where does all of what go?" Paul asks around a mouthful of apple.

"That," I laugh, as we walk together. "I'm talking about all that food you ate. Where the hell does it go?"

"My stomach."

"I know that."

"Well then why'd you ask?"

"Paul."

"Bella." He mimics, glancing down at me with a cheeky mirth dancing in his eyes.

"Fine," I sniff. "Don't tell me. I'll just at it to my list of your mysterious traits."

"There's a list?"

"A long one."

"How long?"

"Just about none-of-your-business long."

"It's about me, how is it not my business?" Paul laughs, chucking the apple core in the garbage can by the exit of the cafeteria.

"Well it's _my_ list," I tease, looking up into his eyes. "So, technically, it's not of your concern at all."

"So, let me get this straight," Paul says with mock seriousness. "You've got a list, about me and my 'mysterious qualities' and yet it's none of my business?"

"Yup." I say.

"That's stupid." Paul remarks.

"You're stupid."

"Your face is stupid."

"Nice retort," I snort. "What are you five?"

Paul just shakes his head before remarking, "You're not so bad, Swan."

"Oh, gee, thanks," I drawl sarcastically. "That's what I've been aspiring to be—_not-so-bad_."

"You know what I mean."

"I know, and you're not so bad yourself."

"Thanks." He smirks down at me and my heart _thud-thud-thuds_ in my chest.

I feel this warmth bloom in my chest and my heart swells.

I was so screwed.

There was no way I could last five weeks as Paul's friend.

Not when I wanted to be more than that.

_Shit_.

I had a crush on Paul.

And I would take Paul in anyway I could get him.

As a nice guy.

A mean guy.

A funny guy.

Any guy.

As long as he was Paul.

We come to a slow stop in front of my math class and I look up at him, "See you later, Paul."

"Later, Bella." Paul replies before walking away.

I watch Paul leave and an unsettled feeling fills my gut. I was nervous for the path that was ahead of me. I knew that Paul wasn't going to be the friend he promised—I didn't doubt that he would try—but he was so closed to everything. Anger was always at the forefront, ready to be released, and was usually the only emotion Paul seemed to reveal to anyone. I didn't know if I was prepared to handle that. But I had to be now that I was his friend, supposedly.

Sighing I enter my math class and try to focus on the lesson at hand. But no matter how hard I tried throughout the entire lesson, my mind drifted and nearly always settled on Paul. It was rather pathetic and I knew that I needed to tame that shit, reel it all in. I knew it wasn't going to be easy to control the flip flop of my stomach or the tightening of my chest (in the best way possible) when I heard him say my name, but I had to try. I didn't want to be completely obvious in my musings. That would be downright shameful, it was bad enough that I was even entertaining the notion of crushing on Paul, never mind broadcasting it to my peers.

Class ends and I gather my books up before leaving the room. I am surprised to find Paul there, waiting for me and raise my eye brows in question.

"I'm walking you to your locker." He supplies with a smirk and bumps shoulders with me as we head off.

I chuckle and ask, "How was your class?"

"Meh," Paul grumbles. "Boring. The teacher fucking hates me."

I shake my head, "I don't think so. Everyone loves you guys."

"Guys?"

"You know, you Sam and the others. You guys are the golden boys, the untouchables." I say and my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Great, he now knew I watched him and Sam.

"You have been watching me, Bella?" Paul says except his voice is all different.

It's low and deep and husky and talking to my girly bits.

I shiver and stop in front of my locker, not knowing what to say.

My hands tremble as attempt to spin the lock and I mumble a low, "Not really. You guys aren't easy to miss."

"Because of our stellar good looks, right?" Paul jokes, dipping his head to look me in the eye.

I roll my eyes at him and place my text book inside, "Yeah, for sure."

He just laughs, "Relax, Swan, I'm only teasing you. I can't blame you, I mean, look at me, I _am_ hot."

I look up at him with his strong jaw line, dark eyes, soft skin and shiny hair that begs to be touched, and know that he is indeed hot. I giggle, "Hmm, I don't quite see it. I think it's Sam that's the best looking out of all of you."

Paul's features drop immediately before a mischievous glint forms in his eyes, "What'd you just say?"

"Nothing," I laugh, closing my locker. "I just said that you're all great looking."

"Yeah," Paul eyes me. "Okay."

I breathe in and am completely thrown when Paul asks, "Wanna grab a bite at the diner with me?"

"What?"

"I asked if you wanted to get something to eat at the diner." Paul says slowly, as if I'm five.

"S-Sure." I stutter.

"Relax, Swan," Paul chuckles as we begin to head for the school's exit. "It's not like it's a date or anything."

"Right."

But I couldn't help that my heart deflated a little in my chest.

Paul and I were friends.

Friends didn't go on dates.

The only thing was though, was that Paul didn't feel like a friend.

Sighing I ask, "What time?"

"Five. I'll pick you up, okay?"

"Okay."

**P ~ B**

I was at home, sitting at the kitchen counter, glaring at the kitchen clock. It was moving far too slowly for my liking. It was quarter to five, and the fifteen minutes that stretched out before me seemed like forever. I didn't know why but I was absolutely restless for Paul to get here, so I could finally relax. It seemed that that was the only time I was ever relaxed, calm really, when I was around Paul.

Sighing I fiddle around with the bracelets on my wrist and try to endure the fifteen minutes. My heart is lodged in my throat when it reaches five o'clock and I can't stop the treacherous thoughts that fly about in my mind.

I heard him correctly, didn't I?

He did say five o'clock, right?

He would come.

Was this a joke?

Was he doing this on purpose?

Was keeping me waiting another move in the sick game of his?

The lump in the back of my throat swells and my throat goes dry.

It's five fifteen when there's a knock at the door. I take in a deep breath and walk over to the door with heavy feet. I don't know why but I felt so angry that he was late. Did he think that he could do that to me? Just keep me waiting, like my time wasn't important?

I wrench the door open and there's Paul looking all, well, Paul like.

My eyes start at the bottom, taking in the combat boots and climb is denim clad legs. I note how low the dark wash jeans sit on his hips and my lady parts begin to throb with excitement. He is wearing a dark grey v-neck tee shirt that alludes to a nice, lean torso, covering this though is a black leather jacket that has a knot forming in my abdomen. I save the best for last and take in his handsome features and I want to lick his jaw line. I meet his eyes, cheeks burning as I see him doing the same to me.

His eyes are stuck at my chest though.

That was one thing I was grateful for, my ample cup size.

I was wearing something simple enough, my favorite jeans and a long sleeved black shirt with a belt wrapped around my waist as to emphasize what Paul was ogling. On my feet I wore some simple brown boots that made me fractionally taller, but nowhere near Paul's 6'8 height.

I clear my throat and he coughs, shaking his head, "Yeah, um, sorry I'm late."

I nod and snap, "Don't be late again."

He rolls his eyes, "So sorry, your highness."

I grab my coat, shoving my arms through the sleeves, "Let me explain something to you, Paul. When you're late, guess what message you're sending: fuck you, I don't care about your time. _Friends_ care about each other's time."

"Okay, okay, Swan, I get it. Sheesh, who shat in your cornflakes?" Paul snaps.

I just clench my jaw and shake my head at him, "Whatever, Paul, let's just go."

I join him on my porch and close the door behind me, locking up quickly. My back is to him as I slide the key in to lock and I can feel the heat coming of Paul. He was so close to me. My heart thrums in my chest and my girly bits tingle in the best way possible. I finish locking up, noting with some discomfort that my panties were wet. I was surprised, I mean, really? I just stood near the guy, and this was the effect he had on me?

I turn around quickly, my long hair swishing behind me when I see Paul take in a deep breath. His nostrils flare and a deep sound comes from his chest. My cooter practically purrs in my pants and Paul's eyes flash open, looking darker than ever.

I gulp nervously and note that he is standing _very_ close as he towers over me. I tentatively reach out, and place a hand on his chest (having to hold back my moan at the delicious heat) and whisper, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Paul says in a low, husky voice.

"Well let's go then."

"Right, the diner." He says and we walk off the porch.

I knew now that the pull was exceedingly physical, and I wanted nothing more than to jump Paul right now. Feel his lips on mine just like that day in the school parking lot. I throb deliciously at the memory and grind my teeth against the party that is currently happening in my pants.

We reach his car and he unlocks it and we both hop in. I breathe in the scent of Paul, filling my lungs as I try to keep him in. I look around and see that it is much neater than the last time I saw it. The CDs are stacked at my feet, loosely shuffled into one corner.

"That's why I was late." I hear Paul murmur quietly.

I suddenly feel bad.

He was late because he had been cleaning up his car.

For me.

"Oh," I say just as quietly. "You didn't have to, Paul. You don't have to change for me."

Paul glances over at me with a small smirk. "I know, Bella. Anything I do—I do it because I want to."

I nod and my fingers itch to go through the CDs at my feet once more. I reach down and begin to sift through them, my eyes finding familiar bands and some that I've never even seen before.

"You're quite the music buff, aren't you?" I ask, looking over a CD of a band I hadn't heard of.

"Kind of," Paul replies. "I mean, I like music and all, but I can't play an instrument for shit."

I laugh, "Don't worry; you're not alone in that. I attempted to master the piano and let's just say that it didn't work out."

Paul laughs and we pull into the parking lot of the diner.

Dinner with Paul was pleasant. I learned a lot.

I learned that he didn't like pumpkin pie and that he loved Pop-Tarts. I learned that his favorite move was Dogma and that he loved to tinker around with cars. I also learned that whenever he didn't like a question that he didn't want to answer (like the ones about his family) that he'd clench his jaw and run a hand through his hair.

Before I knew it we were leaving the diner and headed for his car. I was listening to Paul, all attention focused on him (as per usual) when I knocked into some guy. I could tell I was about to land flat on my ass when I felt Paul wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side tightly, saving me from an embarrassing fall.

I hear the guy I bumped into say, "Watch where you're going, bitch!"

He's a little over my age, maybe in University, and I open my mouth to say something when Paul makes that sound again.

"What that fuck did you just say, asshole?"

The kid looks at Paul with a snarl, "Keep your girl's fat ass in line."

Paul walks over to the guy, pulls back his arm and lets his fist fly. I watch with horror as he does so, and cringe at the sickening sound of Paul's fist hitting the guy's face. The guy, who hadn't been anticipating it at all, hits the ground and Paul growls, "Apologize."

"Sorry." The kid groans and scrambles away.

Paul is shaking with anger and I feel my own frustration boiling inside. Why the fuck had he done that? It wasn't even necessary. I scowl and I watch as Paul tries to pull himself together. I see him struggle but I make no move to calm him because I myself need to calm down, pull myself together.

I clench my jaw and walk over to his side, "Let's go."

Paul is silent and I know that his anger is still at the surface so I must tread carefully. We get into his car, both of us separately brooding. The car ride back the house was painful and filled with silent tension.

He sidles up to the curb before cutting the engine and I wordlessly get out. I just wanted to go into the house and get this under control, my anger that is. But I don't get the chance for Paul has already hopped out of the car and come around to my side.

"You shouldn't have doe that." I snap.

"Are you angry?" Paul asks incredulously.

"Yes, I'm angry," I spit. "It was completely unnecessary, Paul! Why do you always do that? Why is anger and violence your first response? You better tame that shit!"

Paul growls, his lip curling into a snarl, "Don't tell me what to do."

"Oh, here we go," I throw my hands up in the air in frustration. "Don't tell _me_ what to do then, Paul!"

He steps forward, making me press back into his car. The cool metal presses into my back as he boxes me in, an arm on either side of me.

"You should be grateful, Bella," He says angrily, his hot breath fanning across my face, and to my horror, my cooter is throbbing with a vengeance in his close proximity. "I saved your ass from a nasty fall and defended you."

"Thanks!" I snap, rolling my eyes. "But you didn't have to fucking punch the guy!"

"Yes, I did," Paul says lowly, looking deeply into my eyes, setting my panties on fire even though that they were wet as they could be. "I punched that mother fucker because no one has the right to mess with what's mine, you got that? _You are mine_."

"Piss off!" I shove against his chest. "I'm not yours!"

"Yes you are!" He growls, pressing his body into mine, containing me.

"Then fucking prove it!" I yell as I arch my head back to look him in the eyes. "Fucking claim me, Paul!"

Paul's lips crash against mine violently and I moan loudly. His lips are hot against mine as he devours them. He kisses with a fervor that has me gasping and clawing at him as I try to reciprocate. Our teeth gnash and I nearly die when I feel Paul growl against my abused lips. I groan, stuffing my hands into his thick hair and rake my fingers across his scalp. He opens his mouth wider, groaning as my own opens in response. Our tongues meet and battle for dominance. He begins to grind into me and it's my turn to groan. His hard dick pressed against my jean clad cooter is torture. I buck my own hips and whimper when Paul bites my lower lip, pulling and tugging at it. He grips my hips tightly, the soft flesh nearly melting under his hot touch. I fist his hair, pulling at it as he growls, kissing me with a new urgency.

"You're mine." Paul growls between the meetings of our lips.

I can only nod as I pull back only to rotate my hips and bite down on _his_ lip. He groans and I slowly feel his hands migrating down to my ass. He squeezes it, gripping it roughly and I know that I should pull away now, that I should stop him because this is a lot to just start and I don't know how to stop. But for some reason I could not push him away, I could only pull him closer and kiss him harder. The pull positively vibrated between the two of us and the electric buzz only seemed to charge our passion with all the more power.

Paul begins to slow though, instead of speeding up. He places a series of heavy kisses on my lips and my eyes slowly peel open to meet his. He rests his forehead against my own and we both are panting loudly as we try to catch the breaths we stole from each other. I let my hands slowly slide out from his hair and down so that they rest on his shoulders.

"Friends don't kiss." I murmur quietly.

"I know." Paul pants, sliding his hands back up to my hips.

I nod and let my eyes close. My girly bits were throbbing and I was absolutely drenched down there. I bite my lower lip and press my thighs together as if to silence the throb. I open my eyes again when Paul pulls his forehead away from mine.

"What are we?" I ask him quietly, my eyes not meeting his.

"I'm still trying to figure that out." He murmurs. "But for now, can I kiss you?"

I look up into his eyes, dark and tender, and I simply nod, turning my lips up in submission. He softer this time, but just as passionate. I know instantly in this moment that I would never be able to resist Paul, deny him, because not only was I addicted, but I his.

**A/N: Worth the wait?**

**Any Paul lovers out there?**

**Any one disappointed in Bella for giving in?**

**Sorry for being so late—it's kind of ridiculous how long this took me. But I would also like to say that while I do appreciate reviews, **_**update soon **_**and **_**hurry with the next chapter **_**don't really provide much motivation to write. **

**Play List:**

**Kiss With a Fist—Florence and the Machine**

**I'm Not Calling You a Liar—Florence and the Machine**

**Cold Light—Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Man—Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Young Folks—Peter Bjorn & John**

**Holy Roller Novocaine—Kings of Leon**

**Until next time,**

**-Beavoicenotanecho**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello….**

**I know. It's late. Again.**

**Sorry.**

**Again.**

**I really am apologetic for this taking so long but what can I say other than my true but lame excuse: real life is crazy busy.**

**Any way, I hope this chapter is worth your long wait.**

**Thanks for hanging in there, readers!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to S.M.**

**R&R**

**Chapter Seven: Animal**

I couldn't tell you if I had been two hours or two minutes. I had been hauled up in my room for who knows how long trying to sort through what had happened with Paul. I had let him kiss me; and Christ on a cracker, did it ever feel good. That boy and his hot mouth would be the slow death of me. I bite my lower lip and clench my eyes against the thoughts that pervaded my mind. I couldn't think about it. Boys like Paul didn't kiss girls like me. But he _had_ kissed me. He had trapped me in his strong arms and made me feel like a girl for the first time in my life. I had felt small (the good kind of small) and I don't know, wanted, in his arms.

Sighing I walk over to the mirror and look at myself. I run my hands over my mid section and feel the soft, lax skin underneath my clothes. I can't feel the stretch marks but I know they are there. I wonder if Paul could feel them. I wonder if Paul felt all the skin I hid underneath my clothes, because there was some for me to hide. I turn so that I can examine my profile in the mirror and frown. I bite my lower lip and find it hard to imagine that Paul had kissed me voluntarily.

After Paul had kissed me he had walked me to the door and said goodbye. He didn't offer me an explanation and a part of me was happy for that. For honestly, I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want it because I knew it would hurt. I knew it would start with 'I'm sorry' or 'That can't happen again' or 'I don't know what I was thinking'.

I run a hand through my hair and try to assess the situation with some logic. It probably wasn't a good that I had let Paul kiss me like that. I was just making this harder on myself when I really thought about it. When I saw Paul again I was willing to bet that he wasn't going to be asking me to be his girlfriend, more like for me to keep away. Paul was just going to hurt me. Why give him more ammo to work with? I scowl and shake my head.

Why would I do that to myself? Allow myself to become so disillusioned, to actually let Paul take control. I was just encouraging his morbid sense of entitlement. I walk away from my mirror and sit down in my compute chair. I grab my ball made up of elastics and begin to snap one of the bands against the others. The _smack_ sounds are like the beat of my thoughts as I try to figure everything out.

I was past being scared of Paul. I was almost at the point where I kind of enjoyed his odd possessiveness. It was smothering and annoying yet thrilling and exciting all at once. The only thing I was scared of was me. I knew that I was not making the good choices that I should. I knew that I should have reached out by now and told someone but I hadn't. It was my own little secret. A naughty secret, if you will.

I close my eyes and think of the kiss.

Oh, that kiss was…was hot, I thought as I dropped the elastic ball onto my desk.

It shouldn't have happened.

But it had.

I frown and blink open my eyes again. I needed to stop this. I would see Paul tomorrow and really get my answers. I would find out if I had any regrets.

**P ~ B**

My stomach was a mess of nerves and butterflies on crack. I couldn't hold anything down for breakfast and so went without it this morning. I sat in my truck in the school parking lot watching as all the kids greeted each other on this lovely Tuesday morning. I wanted so badly to go into the school and hunt down Paul and ask what the hell happened and more importantly what it meant.

Would our friendship change?

Would friendship be an option?

Would I have other options?

I palm my face and feel my stomach clench almost painfully. I was so God damned nervous to find out what Paul thought about all of this. Would he laugh in my face? Would he say that everything was a joke? An experiment to see how fair a fat girl like me would let things go? I feel that pressure at the back of my eyes and push the tears back. Things had seemed less intimidating last night. Now I felt like I was about to loose something.

I draw in a big breath and try to calm down a bit. I would be fine. I didn't need Paul. I didn't need him or his hot mouth. Okay, maybe I could use that. But I didn't need his rude words or his ever changing feelings about me. I didn't need him. I'd be able to get through this if Paul laughed in my face and turned me away. I roll my eyes inwardly at myself because I knew I was just blowing sunshine up my butt. If I really thought about it would really hurt if Paul did that.

Jesus, it would hurt so badly and I knew it. There was something about Paul that I just _liked_. It was horrible because no matter how harsh the comments or how badly he treated me I still just, I don't know, _liked_ him. I knew that it would be painful if Paul did turn me away for a number of reasons. I knew I'd miss his smile—his real smile—and his open honesty. I knew that I'd miss the chance to be kissed like that again. I chew on my lower lip and try to stop the anxiety that is spreading from my belly to all over.

I grab my bag when I see that school is about to start and ignore that bat-shit crazy butterflies in my stomach. I lock up my car and with my head held up high I walk to the school doors feeling my confidence slowly grow. I could do this—facing Paul wouldn't be so bad.

I make it to my locker without incidence; Paul is nowhere to be found, which is oddly disconcerting. I mean, it seemed like where ever I was; Paul managed to be there too. I grab my first period books from my locker and tug at my top nervously. I was always doing that, trying to pull it all the way down as if it were just a bit longer I wouldn't look so big. I make my way to first period but stop short when I see Paul. He is standing by the door and my heart thuds in my just a little bit harder. Is he waiting for me? My excitement and happiness dies suddenly when I see a short girl walk over to him.

She was small, lean from what I could tell. My heart stutters in my chest as it trips over the sudden pang of hurt. I feel tears press at the back of my eyes and anxiety pull the noose tight around my throat. I watch as he speaks with her and just about die when he smiles a real genuine smile. It took me hours to get that smile out of him, and that bitch gets it out of him in what? Two minutes?

I scowl and anger rages like a riot inside of me. How dare he. He thinks he can just fucking make out with me like that and then flirt with some other chick. Fuck that shit, I spat in my mind. I'm done with him. He won't get anything more than a smile from me.

I'm sure I looked like a mad woman as I huffed my way to my first period classroom, plowing through the doorway. I didn't chance a look at Paul; instead I just kept on and plunked down in my seat. My anger died down a bit as I pulled out my books and laid them on my desk.

Did I even have a right to be mad at Paul? It wasn't like I had claimed him; but by the same token, Paul got mad me for just having a friend who was a guy. Was I just as bad as him then, if I got mad at him for talking to some girl? Confusion rushes through me as I try to reign myself in. But at the same time, I had the right to be angry, didn't I? I mean, he kisses me and then is all smiles with some other chick?

I palm my face and tense up when I see Paul enter the room. I want to disappear so badly right now. I just want to curl up until I am so small that no one can see me. I look down at my desk and open my text book to some section and begin to read. I feel him pause at my desk and just about die when he plunks down into the desk to my left.

I tuck my lower lip between my teeth and bite down hard because I don't know what to do. The tension between the two of us was growing and thickening, a cross between anger and something else. I ignore him to the best of my ability, re-reading the same section over and over again.

I let out a small squeak when I feel Paul lean over and take lock of hair, twirling it around his fingers. He chuckles, "What's up with you, Swan?"

He sounds so genuinely confused and completely lost that my nerve looses its edge. I mean, in Paul's eyes he hasn't done anything wrong. He probably was just trying to subtly send me the message that he regretted the kiss. That had to be it. Paul was simply brushing what happened off. Sighing, I think, silly girl, what made you think that he would want to kiss you again, ever?

I look over at him, and smile weakly, "Just tired."

Paul frowns, still playing with the same piece of hair, "Are you…okay?"

"I'm fine." I sigh, mentally adding, my heart just hurts, that's all. I stare at his chin, not really meeting his eyes. In fact, I hadn't looked him in the eye since he walked in. If I did I would be completely ruined—he'd see right through me.

"Look at me, Swan." Paul orders, as if he can read my mind.

I meet his eyes tentatively and I am immediately sucked in. My lungs shrink and the butterflies in my stomach again. My heart beats a little faster in my chest and my mind is all over the place, going in all directions.

He smiles at me, a small one, before murmuring, "That's better."

I feel a blush crawl up my neck and attack my cheeks. He chuckles and before he can say something else Embry walks in, pausing at where Paul is sitting.

"You're in my seat." Embry states.

"Is your name on it?" Paul snaps at him, still playing with my hair.

Embry sighs, "You're such an asshole."

"Never said I wasn't."

I laugh lightly at their exchange and Paul smirks at me before saying, "Bella, this is Embry, Embry this is Bella."

I nod at him, "Hi."

"Hey."

There's a pause for a moment.

"You're still in my seat."

"Go find another one."

"Fine. I'll sit in _your_ seat, but only because I don't want to beat you up in front of Bella."

"Pfft," Paul huffs. "Yeah, okay, whatever helps ya sleep at night."

I watch their interaction with amusement; Paul was so free, so laid back with Embry. I wonder if he would ever be like that with me. Maybe, someday, if I get lucky. I look away, feeling even worse about the whole situation. Embry leaves us and Paul clears his throat.

Awkward tension suddenly fills the air and I have no idea what to do about it. Was he thinking about the kiss? Remembering every breath we stole from each other? I feel my blush pool in my cheeks and my lower abdomen clenches in the most delightful way. Paul makes that sound again and I look over at him quickly, staring at him critically.

"I've got five weeks, Swan, five weeks."

I shake my head and mumble, "In counting."

He chuckles and the teacher walks in calling us all to attention. The teacher begins to talk about some English project where we have to get to know a classmate and figure out who they are, define their character—as my teacher put it. I gnaw on my lower lip nervously when I hear that she will be choosing the partners.

The teacher begins to read off our paired up names and I just wish the floor would swallow me up. I hated this. I hated hearing the groans of disgust when people found out they were working with me. My cheeks flame with painful shame and I focus on the text book in front of me.

"Leah and Paul."

"Embry and Bella."

"Sarah and Eli."

"Raven and Joshua."

The teacher continues to read the list and I look over at Paul, to see his reaction to some other guy working with me, and I am unsurprised. A scowl like no other graces his features and I can practically hear his teeth grinding together. I shake my head at him, but he doesn't notice. Moments ago he was in a fine mood, now he's not, just because another guy—his friend no less—gets to talk to me. Anger curls in my belly and scowl of my own adorns my features.

The teacher just finished when Paul shot out of his seat and stalked off to the front of the class. I watch as Paul talks to the teacher, arguing with them as he pleads his case. I clench my jaw—knowing exactly what he's doing—and hope that the teacher denies him. I know Paul's status as a golden boy who can do know wrong is more powerful than I thought when I see him smile. He walks back over to me, a confident swagger that makes me sick and pulls a chair over to my desk before straddling the chair. I simply stare at him and soon the smirk slips from his hot mouth, "What?"

"You got the teacher to make us partners didn't you?"

"Yep."

I clench my jaw, "Why the hell would you do that? Can I have no freedom?"

Paul lifts his chin, a sneer curling his lip, "No."

Fear slices through me and I now know I am not dealing with the Paul who asked if he could just kiss me. I'm dealing with someone completely different, and doubly frightening.

"Then I'm done with you, Paul, I give up." I snap. "I'm not a friend at all to you."

"Jesus Christ, Bella," Paul bites back. "Why do you have to do that?"

"Do what? Speak my mind? I thought I was supposed to be _strong_, Paul."

Paul glares at me, before leaning in close and speaking lowly, "You're mine. Got that? I get to know you—not anyone else, and certainly not Embry."

"What wrong with Embry?" I ask, ignoring his previous comments all together.

"I can't answer that—so don't even try."

"You can't or you won't?"

"There is no difference."

"There is and you know it, Paul." I hiss.

Paul just huffs before leaning back, "Listen, can we not do this right now? We made a deal, Swan. Let's just start this damn project."

"Fine." I snap.

The silence stretches between us, tense and angry. I don't even care at this point. I couldn't handle this friendship if I was going to be smothered constantly and continually oppressed. I plant my head and my hands and mutter lowly, "I don't think I can handle you."

"I know you can't," Paul teases. "But you will."

"How can I when you're so god damned confusing?"

"Me? Confusing?"

I lift my head from my hands, "Yes, you, confusing."

"How so?" Paul arches a teasing eyebrows and I blush like mad.

He knows what he's doing with me—playing.

"You're just…you know, confusing." I mumble, looking down at my hands.

He leans forward and tips my face up with a crooked finger under my chin. "How am I confusing, Swan?"

He's talking to the cooter again.

His voice all deep and gritty.

So close and smelling so good.

The cooter greets him with a wet kiss.

I finally look him in the eye and I know my pained confusion is there.

My shame and embarrassment from this morning.

My hurt.

Is all there, showcased for him to see.

Staring into those dark eyes whisper, "You kissed me, Paul."

His eyes go all soft.

"Bella…"

"No," I meekly interrupt and I feel the hurt pressing at the back of my eyes. "You don't have to explain to me. You don't have to apologize or anything. I get it—I can pretend too."

A huge lump is at the back of my throat and I stand up so quickly that my chair screeches against the linoleum in the process. I hurry out of the room, knowing I can't keep it together. I mutter a lame excuse to the teacher when I exit and I flee.

I end up at my locker as I try to keep it together but the first tear falls and I know I'm done for. I bring a shaking hand up to my cheek and wipe it away. I felt so stupid. Why the hell had I said that? Now he probably thinks that I am this desperate fat chick, I think as I curl my arms around my midsection. I feel a humiliated sob escape my lips.

All of a sudden I feel two arms wrap around me from behind and I know that their Paul's. Their warm and strong and my embarrassment burns anew within. The tears blur my vision and a sob escapes when I feel him pull my arms away from my midsection. I resist, struggling against him as more tears fall, "St-Stop it!"

"Shh," He murmurs into my hair, his breath all warm. "Baby-girl, shh, please don't cry."

I was so confused. He hated crying—he told me so, but now he's comforting me?

I shake my head, pushing at his arms to no avail, "I-I don't need your pity, P-Paul!"

"Hey," He says sharply, gripping me tightly and batting away my pestering hands. "This is not pity."

I fight a bit harder, trying to get out of his arms, before slumping against him, "Don't lie to m-me."

I bite back a sob when I feel him press a kiss to the crown of my head, pulling me tighter against him so that my body is flush with his. I shudder violently in his arms with the force of my messy emotions and try to control my heaving breaths but it only worsens. The storm rages harder inside because it felt so good, so right to be in his arms, but I know I didn't belong there.

We were just friends.

That was all Paul would want from me.

Friendship.

Because I was bigger than average.

He turns me in his arms, drawing me close and holding me tight as he murmurs, "Don't cry, baby-girl, don't cry."

My heart twists at the nickname, loving and hating it all at once.

That was the name for a girlfriend.

Not a friend who just so happened to be a girl.

And certainly not for a girl like me.

I sniffle resigning to being trapped in his arms. I instead soak it up; knowing I most likely will never feel it again.

He cups my cheek with his hand, brushing away the tear there.

"You didn't let me explain."

"I didn't need an explanation, Paul."

"Must you disagree with everything I say?"

"Yes."

He smirks down at me, shaking his head.

"You didn't let me even say anything, Bella, you just assumed."

"So? I'm right anyway—you just want to be friends, I get it Paul—you don't need to spell it out to me, I saw you talking to that girl earlier."

"Who? Kim? That's Jared's girl."

I suddenly felt incredibly stupid and humiliated.

I looked away from his eyes, a blush staining my cheeks.

"Is that why you thought that I regretted kissing you?"

I remain silent, biting my lower lip.

"Look at me, Swan," Paul says, bringing his other hand to rest on the back of my neck. "I don't regret kissing you."

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Paul. Just because I got upset doesn't mean you gotta soften the blow and lie."

I am mid eye roll when I feel his lips on mine. My eyes widen and I look into his only to see him staring at me. I freeze and Paul smirks against my lips, "I know you're a better kisser than this, Bella."

I close my eyes and kiss him back, pressing my lips firmly to his. He kisses me tenderly, gently and I match every touch of his lips. My tongue flicks out, teasing the seam of his lips when he groans and slides a hand up into my hair. He angles my head to deepen the kiss and soon we're a mess of tongue and teeth and lips and breathy sounds. He pulls away and pants, "I could never regret kissing you."

I just keep my eyes closed, knowing that Paul could regret it and that he probably would. I didn't know how to handle all of this. I didn't even know what we were, was I just some girl that he kissed, or was I the only girl he kissed? I battle against the confusing questions that I don't have answers for.

Did this have something to do with what I would know in five weeks? It had to, because it hadn't felt this way when Eli had kissed me. My heart gives a pang at the lost friend, but I know I saved him a world of hurt.

All of what I was feeling couldn't possibly be normal. It was almost like I craved Paul, like I _needed_ him. It was unsettling and overwhelming and I didn't know how to keep afloat in the raging tide of emotions.

I feel his hot hand cup my other cheek so that he is cupping both cheeks. He presses his lips to mine firmly and I feel him murmur, "Believe me, baby-girl."

I don't know where this tenderness is coming from and it makes me suspicious. I feel guilty but I know that anything Paul offers isn't a no-string affair.

"Why are you being so…" I let him steal the words from my lips. "Sweet?"

Paul pulls away, frowning, "I don't know, Swan. You're changing me."

"Changing you?" I whisper, looking into his dark eyes.

He simply nods.

"How is that even possible? I've only known of you for what a three months?"

"It's just how it is." Paul sighs.

"It?"

"Five weeks, Bella, five weeks."

"Okay." I nod.

He looks down at me, brushing the hair from my eyes, "Are you? Okay, that is?"

"Yeah. I'm okay now. I just…what you do or say means something, it's like I am hyper-sensitive to it."

"I know."

"Then why do you mess with me so much?" I snap, my anger getting the best of me.

Immediately Paul's arms stiffen and he makes that sound.

"I just do."

"Why though?" I push out of his arms.

"Now is not the time, Swan," Paul snaps and immediately tension was back in the air. "We have to get back to class."

All tender sweetness is gone, and that cruel boy is back. So much for changing him, I snap inwardly. It was so troubling how he could go from holding and soothing me to us being at each other's throats. That couldn't be healthy at all.

We silently return to class and everyone gives us these curious looks. The teacher doesn't inquire about our absence and I feel resentment burn in my belly. Did no one care what Sam and his posse did?

There is little time left to the period so Paul and I just remain sitting together in tense silence. I don't know why I was so peeved, so ticked off. I just didn't understand how he could mess around with me; play with cruel words and tender touches when he knew that I would feel the effects both good and bad.

The bell rings and I grab my shit and leave. I don't spare Paul a backwards glance, I just keep on going. I get to my locker in record time and I am just grabbing my books for period to when I feel him behind me. My heart rate picks up and the quick beats match my short breaths. I close my locker and I feel Paul pick up a strand of hair to play with. I immediately whirl around, thereby removing the strand from his fingers. He raises his eye brows and I just glare at him.

"Listen," He says. "I'm not any good at this shit…I hurt people, Bella. It's what I do"

I feel my nerve gain a little bit more edge when he opens his mouth again, "I just, I don't know, you expect so much from me, Swan. You want me to be this nice guy who dotes on you and this great friend and I can't be that. It isn't who I am."

"What? And you don't want me to be someone else? You want this complacent, do whatever you say, girl who weighs one hundred and fifteen pounds."

"I never said that." Paul growls out at me.

"Oh?" I ask, stepping forward. "So you didn't tell Sam that he had Emily to look forward to, and that you were stuck with me?"

Paul clenches his jaw and snaps, "That was then."

"Was it really? Are you saying that you don't feel that way now?"

"Yes."

I scoff, shaking my head at him, "No, Paul, you still feel that way."

"Don't tell me what I feel, god damn it, Bella!"

"Then don't lie to me, or yourself, Paul!"

"I'm not lying!"

"Then tell me, Paul, why do you kiss me when no one can see? Why are you not able to figure out what we are?"

My voice is angry and accusing as I berate him in the hallway. He looks shocked and found out. He looks down and he mumbles, "I don't know what to say."

"Don't worry," I snap bitterly. "I'll do it for you. You can't seem to do anything with me because you're embarrassed, Paul. You're ashamed that you might actually like a fat chick."

He opens his mouth to argue, "No!"

"Then what is it, Paul?"

"I don't know."

"You do know. I just told you."

**P ~ B**

I am surprisingly calm for the rest of the day. I don't cry, for the truth I revealed to Paul isn't really that bad. In fact I felt a bit better for it; I had finally called Paul out, and until he was ready to deal, I had no interest in talking to him.

So much for friendship, I thought wryly.

I knew that it wouldn't work friendship or otherwise, if Paul was still clinging to those stereotypes of what he should want. I knew that it was difficult for Paul to be friend—he had told me repeatedly that it wasn't in his nature. However, Paul failed to realize that it wasn't in my nature either. I hadn't had a friend since kindergarten, and I had some major trust issues that weren't exactly healthy for any type of relationship.

Until Paul checked his issues and acknowledged the validity of my own this friendship thing (or whatever Paul and I were doing) wasn't going to happen.

It's the end of the day and I quickly walk to my locker and grab my crap. I am weaving my way through when I run into someone. They are warm, really warm, and for a moment I think it is Paul. It isn't, instead I am looking into chocolate colored eyes.

"Sorry!" I chuckle nervously. "I'm a bit of a klutz!"

"No worries," He says, steadying me with a gently but firm grip on my upper arms.

"Black!" A voice shouts down the hallway and I know it's Paul.

"Jacob?" I ask, looking him up and down. Jacob had been in my English class last year, one of the few people who actually dared to talk to me. He was sweet in grade ten, with his easy smile and pleasant disposition. Feeling the heat of his skin I know he has joined Sam's cult and a pang of disappointment hits me.

"The on and only," He smiles, showing off his pearly whites. "How've you been, Bella?"

I'm about to answer when I feel Paul's hand curl around my elbow and tug me backwards with such force that I slam back into his chest.

"What do you think you're doing, Black?" Paul snarls, glaring at Jacob.

"Nothing. Bella and I ran into each other—literally."

Paul looks down at me, "That true?"

"No," I snap sarcastically. "Jacob here was just asking me out on a date."

My sarcasm isn't so funny to Paul and I know this because a growl irrupts from his chest and he begins to do that tremble thing. I feel bad so I place hand on his forearm and whisper, "Relax, Paul, I was kidding."

"Not funny." He replies through clenched teeth.

I roll my eyes at him and remove my hand.

Paul juts his chin out at Jacob, a movement that clearly means that Jacob is dismissed. Jacob leaves and says to me, "Nice to see you, Bella."

Then it's just Paul and I.

I mentally sigh and look up at Paul who stares back with hard eyes.

"Stay away from Jacob, Bella."

"Because he has a dick?" I snap with a tongue sharpened from anger.

"No, because he's dangerous."

"Is he as dangerous as you?" I question bitterly.

"No, he's worse."

I remain quiet for a beat or two before I say, "Paul, what do you want from me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to kiss me or be my friend?"

"I want both."

"Well, until you figure out which one it is, you can't have either."

Something flashes in his eyes and before I know it he's wrapped an arm around my waist. He pulls me close and presses his body flush against mine. His hot breath fans out across my face and I don't know what it is, but this daze comes over me and suddenly I am alive but completely drained. It is a heady mix that has me leaning on Paul. I look into his dark and dilated eyes before dropping my gaze to his hot mouth that is slowly curling into smirk.

He leans in close and it seem like he is going to kiss me but instead he kisses my neck. He kisses an openmouthed trail to my ear, before nipping at the lobe, "Are you saying I can't do this, baby-girl?"

My breath hitches in my throat and I want to wrap myself up in his voice. It feels scratchy but warm against my skin. I shudder when he presses a series of kisses all the way to the corner of my mouth.

My mind is screaming at me to push him away and to show him that I have restraint. But my body, my traitorous body, is trying to get as close to him as possible. The cooter greets him with a wet kiss for the second time today.

I nearly die when pulls my lower lip into his mouth, suckling on it gently before biting down none too gently. I hiss and he soothes the burn by kissing my lower lip gently. He presses his lips to mine repeatedly and I can no longer resist. My hands wrap around his neck, and his tighten around my waist. He kisses me slowly, sensually, but I want more. I tug at the little strands of hair at the nape of his neck and he growls. Our kiss becomes fierce as Paul pushes me up against the lockers. The cross of metal digging into my back and Paul's teasing lips against mine is sinfully sweet and I wish I could feel it forever. But Paul pulls back, just enough to take in some air before stating, "Don't deny me what I want, baby-girl, especially when I know you want it too."

I lick my lips and I can't deny it: I do want this.

Paul, as if hearing my last thought, presses his lips to mine again, "Say it."

"What?"

"That you want this."

He grips my hips hard, his touch so hot I swear I am going to melt.

He keeps his lips a hair away, teasing me.

"Say it."

He kisses the corner of my lips.

"Say it."

His mouth is at my ear, whispering hotly.

I shudder.

"Say it, baby-girl."

His hard excitement pressed against my thigh, dangerously close to the cooter.

"I want…"

Paul's hot mouth is on mine in an instant and I know I am dangerously close to being consumed.

**A/N: What did you all think?**

**Anymore Paul lovers out there?**

**Or are you all still thinking Bella should run the other way?**

**What was your favorite kiss? **

**Let me know in a review!**

**Play list:**

**Animal—Neon Trees**

**Something Else—Diamond Rings**

**I Want You—FeFe Dobson **

**I Saw You Blink—Stornoway**

**Happy Holidays, readers!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I know. This thing is way over due. **

**Real life just keeps on distracting me. **

**I am so sorry.**

**Anyway, thanks for sticking with me and enduring the long waits. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's busy. **

**Enjoy the chapter.**

**R&R**

**I don't own anything. I just play in S.M's sand box. **

**Chapter 8: Hospital Beds**

I knew that things had to change between Paul and I. I knew that I couldn't keep on enabling his behavior, encourage him to treat me this way. I knew that now, reflecting back on the way Paul had kissed me in the empty corridor of our high school. I couldn't keep on complaining about Paul when I wasn't even willing to do anything about him. Something had to be done, what that thing was still unclear to me.

When I really thought about it, I knew that I needed to stop sending mixed signals. I needed to either stop pushing him away and calling him an ass, or I needed to keep pushing him away and standing my ground. I knew that the latter would be best.

I was well aware that it would be so much better for myself if I was a friend only to Paul. I couldn't let him have both, even if he felt as though he were entitled to it all. I knew that I could only be friends with Paul for the next five weeks. I could only have friendship with Paul for two reasons. One of them being that this would go a hell of a lot more smoothly if we were only entertaining friendship. The second reason was much more personal, one that had hit me last night while staring up at my ceiling.

Last night, looking up at the cracks of my ceiling, I knew that I wanted to be able to pull out at the end of the five weeks. I was already addicted to Paul, already hooked, but I knew I would be cemented in place by the end of the five weeks if we kept on like this. If I kept allowing him to do this to me, play with my feelings and make them even worse, I had no chance of walking away at the end of all of this. Maybe that was Paul's intent. Even if it was, it made no difference to me. I wanted to be in control at the end of the five weeks. I wanted to be able to look at whatever I learned and be able to consider it properly, with nothing affecting my judgement. I knew that this was going to be hard to do, but I needed to talk to Paul. I needed to make him listen when I told him that I just wanted to be friends - literally.

It sounded like a great idea last night, but now, standing at my locker while looking for Paul at the same time; not so much. I felt nervous to say this to him. I didn't care if he got angry (okay, maybe I did care, but only a little bit), I was more concerned whether he was going to take me seriously or not.

Not once had Paul ever taken me seriously over the past three months. He hadn't even tried, he just took his wants, his needs seriously, regardless if it would affect me. I was well aware that Paul was probably the most selfish man I would meet. But I couldn't help but hope that that would change. I was a fool to think so, and I knew it instantly when I heard my Mother's wise words whispering to me in my mind:

_A man gets together with a woman hoping she'll never change; a woman gets together with a man hoping she can change him._

I smirk forms on my lips at the honesty of the statement, and I know that I am about to make an example of it.

I place my jacket in my locker before craning my neck and looking for Paul. I look up and down the hallway and see no sign of him. My stomach begins to sink and I think about how perfect it would be if Paul wasn't here today, just when I drew the courage together to talk to him. Shaking my head, I move to grab my books for first period when I get the sensation that Paul is near.

My heart pumps furiously in my chest and I look to my left and see Paul walking down the hallway. I take him in, the whole world falling away so all I see is him. His arrogant swagger is ugly but somehow charming on him. The natural confidence is astounding in its volume and jealously springs up inside of me. I wish I could walk the way he did, like he had the world in the palm of his hand. I want to look away but my eyes won't obey, too busy resting on his smirking lips.

I blink and feel the reddest blush stains my cheeks.

He sidles up to my locker, reaching out and flicking a wayward hair away from my face. I bite my lower lip, pulling back slightly to put some distance between the two of us. The little speech I had prepared wouldn't be so easy to say if he were so close.

He raises an eye brow at me and I draw a shaky breath in, "I need you to listen to me, Paul."

He chuckles, "Okay, I'll try."

Sighing, I look down at my shoes before looking back up to him, "We need to be just friends. That and that only. I know that you said that you wanted both, but I can't handle both. I'm not asking for more, Paul. I just want you to be my friend, no more and no less."

"Where is this coming from?" He asks with narrowed eyes.

"I just...it sounds silly, but at the end of this five weeks I want to be able to pull out, if you will, or to be able to consider what you tell me with a clear head. I know my head won't be clear if I keep on this path."

"I see; what about what I want?"

"Well, I think that you owe me, Paul. For all the shit that you've dragged me through, you can at least let me have this."

Paul sighs and looks to be mulling it over in his head.

"Fine. Just friends for now, Swan. Maybe you're right, you should have a...clear head at the end of all of this."

I smile at him, "Thanks...that went surprisingly well."

"Are you saying I'm not easy to get along with?" Paul asks sarcastically, looking hurt (but I know he's only joking).

"That's exactly what I'm saying." I chuckle while shutting my locker door.

I was truly surprised by how easily Paul had accepted my terms. I was expecting him to put up a fight, expecting him to try and distract me, persuade me, like he normally did. I wasn't going to complain though, if Paul was going to agree, who was I to judge?

I went through the morning rotations easily, joking around with Paul between classes. Paul was nice, pleasant really (so far) and couldn't help but wonder why he was so moody. He was a jumbled mixing pot of moods that seemed to occur with no rhyme or reason. Paul was unpredictable, and while part of me liked that, another didn't.

I was walking towards the cafeteria when I heard Paul's voice. Unable to stop myself, I slow my steps, peeking around the corner of the end of the hall where the other turning left begins. I see Paul tall and proud, towering over Jacob and practically yelling at the kid. I frown at Paul and a surge of sympathy shoots through me at the thought of Jacob (who was a year younger than Paul) being verbally berated by Paul.

Jacob is looking down at the floor, nodding and looking scorned. I scowl and before I can stop myself, I am stepping forward, "Hey! Paul!"

I act like I don't know that I've interrupted anything and smile as I jog over to the pair. I smile at Jacob before turning my eyes onto Paul who is glaring at me. I grin just a little bit more and ask, "I was just wondering when you wanted to start on our project for English?"

Paul narrows his eyes and I know that he sees what I am doing. How could I not? I felt bad for Jacob. He was just a kid, and knowing Paul, he's probably being more than a little less than kind. I guess part of me just felt like I had to protect Jacob, I mean, he probably didn't even deserve Paul's wrath.

Paul juts his chin out at Jacob again, dismissing him, "We'll finish this later."

Jacob walks away, giving me a small smile as he goes. I smile back only to look back at Paul when he snaps, "What the fuck was that?"

"I wanted to know when you wanted to work on the project." I shrug.

"That's all you came over here for?"

"Yup." The 'p' pops.

"Yeah," Paul drawls sarcastically. "Okay. But do me a favor, next time you want to interrupt my business, don't."

I roll my eyes at him, "Christ, Paul, Jacob is just a kid. I didn't see why you needed to be yelling at him in the hallway."

"Just a kid? Yeah, just a kid to you, Bella. That _kid_ has a lot more riding on him than you think."

"Whatever, Paul. I couldn't have known...I just thought that maybe I could, I don't know..."

"Yeah, you _don_'_t_ know. So stop trying to act like you do."

"What is this? Why are you so freaking mad? If you really want to yell at the kid some more, go ahead! I just tried to stop it because no one needs that."

"Let's just drop this, okay? I can't talk about it with you."

"Fine," I huff. "Whatever. Sorry for taking interest. Seriously though, when do you want to work on this thing?"

"Today after school. At your place? Mine is no good."

"Okay."

I was tempted to ask him why exactly his place was no good but I quieted the question. I didn't really want to hear his answer, whether it be that he didn't want his parents to meet me, or if it was something more personal.

"I'll see you later then." I say, walking away.

I eat lunch with my trusty side kick, a book, and before I know it I am back in class again. They drag on, slow in their dull content. By the time the bell rings (indicating the end of the day) I am rushing to my locker like a bat out of hell. I am just packing up, snapping the lock of my locker into place when I see Paul in my peripherals.

I turn my head and greet him with, "See you at my place, right, at three-thirty?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Neither of us step away or move to leave.

A sort of tension has formed between the two of us.

"Listen," Paul awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. "Can we just forget about what happened earlier? I didn't mean to be such an ass."

"You're lucky I'm so good at forgetting things." I tease lightly, smirking at him.

He chuckles before mumbling, "I guess I am."

I look over at him and that odd sensation fills me. My lungs shrink, my heart pounds and the dreaded butterflies bat around in my stomach. My fingers itch and I wiggle them as I try to dispel the urge to brush the hair out of Paul's eyes. A surging need takes up residence in my belly and I try to resist it, denying its pleas for me to move closer to Paul. I blink back into the present, a shudder running down my back as I focus on the boy in font of me.

If Paul took any notice of my blatant observation he didn't show it. I sometimes wondered if I was alone in the way I felt towards Paul. Sure, he kissed me and made me all hot, but I wondered if this was just some game of power to him. Everything was so unclear with Paul. I didn't know if he was lying or if he was telling me the truth. Frankly, I didn't trust Paul, and that scared the shit out of me given the situation.

"Well," I clear my throat awkwardly. "I'll, uh, see you in a bit, I guess."

"Yeah."

I paused for a beat before leaving and heading for the school parking lot. I quickly reach my car and hop in before starting her up. The ride home is quiet, the only real disturbances being my pestering thoughts. I pull up to my house, parking the car before exiting it. I jog up the walkway and enter the house after unlocking it.

I drop my bag at the door and toe my shoes off once I get inside. I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. As I let the tap run so that the water will be cold and try to ignore the nervous clenching of my belly. I felt anxious for Paul's arrival, and more importantly the project we had to complete.

This project was personal and I don't know if I could get that personal with Paul. I mean sharing what I thought of global warming and my favorite color would not suffice at all. I wouldn't get a decent grade with that surface information. This project required us to spare nothing while getting to know each other. It didn't help my cause that our English teacher was critical, and saw through bull shit. I knew that Paul and I would truly have to get to know each other if we were going to get a mark to be proud of.

I knew that this project demanded honesty from both of us, but I was more concerned for his reaction to anything I said. I was scared of the judgement that Paul would surely deliver. I didn't know if I would be able to handle that. However at the same time this project allowed me to know more about Paul that he would ever reveal voluntarily.

A sharp knock echoes through the house and I know by the rapid beat of my heart that it is Paul. I walk over to the door and open it up, smiling shyly at him.

"Hey." He says.

"Hey," I step back form the door, giving him a bit more room. "Come on in."

He steps through the door and removes his boots before I ask, "Do you want anything to drink? Or to eat?"

"Both?" He asks, chuckling.

I laugh, "Alright, let's go to the kitchen."

We both walk towards the kitchen, the mood between us light and playful for once. It feels nice, kind of normal actually. I hope that it stays this way while we're working on the project, but I know that was not likely to happen.

Once we're in the kitchen I turn to him and ask, "I don't know how hungry you are, but I was thinking some simple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches would do."

He nods and I set out to make it all. I have the sandwiches made within five minutes and I notice Paul is oddly quiet. I knew that he wasn't a talkative guy in general, but I knew that he was usually a bit chatty with me. We certainly didn't have life changing conversation but we did talk.

"You okay, Paul?" I set the sandwich down in front of him.

I join him at the kitchen counter, sitting down on the stool next to him.

His jaw clenches and his hand forms a fist. I know that something is definitely bothering him, but probably not enough to tell me about it. He just shakes his head at me, "I'm fine. Nothing I can't handle."

A pang of hurt shoots through me and I have no idea as to why. I mean, I didn't trust Paul, how could I expect him to trust me? But for some reason it hurt that he didn't want to tell me, that he didn't trust me enough to talk to me.

I am not as hungry as I was before, the peanut butter and jelly not so appetizing as when I was making it. I take a bite, swallowing thickly as I try to think of ways to fill the now awkward silence.

It was so difficult to be around Paul. I never knew what to do with myself, or what to do with him. I didn't understand how some days he could laugh and joke around but other days he was angry at me for just opening my mouth. I didn't get Paul, period. I couldn't even begin to describe how confusing he was.

"You eatin' that?" Paul asks around a mouthful of sandwich.

I just move my plate over to his, signaling that he can have at it. He picks it up and I watch as he shovels the thing into his mouth in two great big bites. I look away after and the silence is still just as disturbing.

"Well," I sigh. "I suppose we should get started."

"Yeah."

I get up and go to my school bag, pulling out the instructions and rubric for the project. I read over the list of things we had to do before saying, "So, we basically have to get to know each other and at the end we present who we think the person is to the class."

"How does this project have anything to do with English?" Paul snaps.

I flinch at his sharp tone, "I-uh, well, we're creating characters, when you think about it. I mean, by getting to know you I'll have a better sense of who you are, your character, if you will."

I look up at him from the paper to find him staring intently at me. I feel nervous under his stare so I smooth how my sweater a bit before asking, "How do you want to do this?"

"I don't know. Why don't we just ask each other stuff?"

My gut twists at the though of what questions he might ask.

"How about this, we write down a bunch of questions we'd like to ask and put them in a bowl, then one of us draws one and we _both_ have to answer it. Does that sound good?"

"Sure." Paul agrees.

I give him paper and a pen before grabbing the same thing for my self. I write down all the questions I can think of, ripping them into need strips before folding the individual pieces of paper up. My pile if questions is sitting neatly beside me and I look over to see Paul still writing. I get up and grab a bowl from the cupboard and return to my spot next to Paul. I toss my questions in and so does Paul.

I feel anxious, my nerves causing my hands to shake.

They tremble in plain sight and I jump when I feel Paul's hand grab one of mine. He takes it gently, murmuring quietly, "You okay?"

I look into his eyes and a sort of coldness washes over me, "Nothing I can't handle."

His eye brows shoot up into his hair line, "Touche."

I smirk at him, feeling somewhat proud of myself. If he wasn't going to talk to me, then I wasn't going to tell him anything either. My hands are still a bit shaky but I ignore it as I reach forward, plucking a question from the bowl.

I read the writing, it's not mine, but it's neat and written in all capital letters.

_If you were an object, what would you be?_

A smile takes over my mouth and I giggle at the question. I read it aloud to Paul and he chuckles.

"What? You said write some questions down! Not all of them had to be serious!"

I just shake my head at Paul, laughing. I was actually kind of glad that I picked this question. Sure it was silly, but it broke the tension that seemed to have been between Paul and I.

"I'd be a record player." I say, smiling.

He smiles back, "Really? Why?"

"Because of the music part, plus it's older, and I sometimes feel older than a high school senior. My Mom always says I am too serious, that teenagers are meant to have fun."

He frowns at my mother's comments before saying, "I'd like to be an atlas."

"Why?"

"Because then I'd know what every place in the world is like."

"Why not just visit the places at some point in your life?"

"I can't."

I sense that this is a I'll-find-out-in-five-weeks-why sort of point so I don't even bother him about his answer. Instead I say, "Your turn. Pick a question."

His large hand disappears into the bowl for a moment before reemerging. His eyes fly over the question he picked and he reads, "If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"

I snort at the question, "I'd be skinnier."

Paul frowns, "Why?"

"Because that's what is expected of me."

"Do you really feel that way, Bella?"

"Yes. Can we just drop it? You haven't even answered the question."

"Fine. I'd change my temper. It's the fucking worst."

We fall silent again, our good moods gone and nowhere to be found. I bite the inside of my cheek and grab another folded slip of paper from the bowl. I pull it out and know instantly that it was one of my questions.

"What is your favorite pass-time?" I read aloud.

"Working on cars." Paul says.

I nod, "Listening to music."

We keep going back and forth like that for a while. We've done about half the questions when Paul has to leave. I walk him out and we agree to meet up again later on in the week to finish them off. We also agree that for the next little while we can as questions as they come to us, for the purpose of the project.

**P ~ B**

The next three weeks rushed past me in a flurry of school work and getting to know Paul. Paul is one of the most interesting boys I have ever met in my entire life. Just over the past few weeks I have learned that honesty will take you far and that his loyalty, once earned, is for life. I now know that he cares for very few people and it is hard to attain that position.

Little by little over the weeks our friendship was forming. Slowly I had been feeling less and less inferior to Paul and I now actually felt as though I was his equal. I could handle myself, for the most part, when I was around him. I was able to stand up for myself, call him on his crap and generally manage Paul.

We still had our moments though, or at least I had my moments. There had been days where he made me feel just as small, where he didn't bite his tongue or hold back in unloading his anger. I didn't want him to hold back just because I was a girl and he thought I couldn't handle it, but to the same extent I didn't want to be his punching bag.

There were times when I would look over at him and feel more than all consuming attraction and infatuation. I'd feel something more, something bigger than I could label. It may not have a name, yet, but it felt very powerful. At this point, all I knew was that I cared about Paul. I know what you're thinking; how could I possibly care about him in all his horrific glory?

I cared about Paul because there were moments of sweet kindness and tenderness. He was different with me, I could tell. I knew that he was slowly learning how to interact with me, and thank goodness for that. His possessive moments, although they still occurred, they were less volatile. I cared about Paul for a number of reasons but one of them being that I actually liked him as a whole. Sure he was rude and mean, had a temper like no other, but he was also kind and sweet with me, honest and good. I took everything from Paul and I relished every quality he chose to reveal.

I tried my hardest to return the open concept Paul was beginning to take up with me. It was difficult though, because sometimes I would get these traitorous thoughts warning me to get out of here. I'd have these moments where I tried to talk myself out of my attachment, try to rebuild the missing pieces of my wall, but I couldn't. This uncontrollable part of me wanted to let him know just about everything about me. But the more controlled, more logical part of me told me that I shouldn't give him all of my heart, all of myself so quickly, so soon.

It didn't matter though, because when I really admitted it to myself I was slowly falling for Paul. I knew it was unwise. I knew he could and probably would hurt me in the long run, but it didn't hurt right now, and well, I always tended to live in the moment when it came to Paul.

Today Paul had invited me to eat lunch with him.

I know.

It seems pretty big to me.

That was the inner circle of our school.

The golden boys and their select golden gals.

Sam was with Emily and Jared was with Kim.

Yes, it was quite the select few.

I was very nervous to sit with them for a number of reasons. Number one, the fact this was Paul's family practically. Whenever he made reference to them in one of our many conversations he did so with this sort of proud and boyish look on his face. I knew that what they thought and what they said probably meant something to Paul, even though he acts like he doesn't care. Second item on my list was childish, sprouting from my most horrid insecurities. They were all good looking. Each and every one of them. Especially Emily (despite the scarring on her face) and Kim. They were both slim and lean, dainty and everything a guy could want. I'm sure it'd be a real ego boost for them today when I sat next to them. I knew I sounded pathetic and vain but really, it was practically instinctual for me to have these thoughts. Thirdly, well, I just didn't want to let down or disappoint Paul. I wanted to prove that I could handle this, that I belonged in his world as a friend. I wanted to prove to him that I belonged on his side.

I was at my locker putting my stuff away and trying to calm my nerves because it was time for lunch. I am just locking it up when Paul sidles over, leaning against the locker to my left.

"Is it weird that I'm nervous?" I ask, leaning against my locker, facing him as I bite my lip.

He raises his hand, cupping my jaw and electric sparks shoot across my cheek. He gently presses against my lower lip with his thumb, making me release it. The move is tender and sweet and a little bit unexpected. Back when I asked Paul to be only my friend he had respected that decision. He kept his distance, but as of late, over the past few days, he had been more and more affectionate. He always had this mixed look of surprise and restraint after one of these moments, as though he couldn't believe that he had just done that. I didn't mind them for the most part, and as of late I've been hoping for them more and more.

"Yeah," Paul says, smirking at me. "But you're kind of weird alone."

I snort, sticking my tongue out at him, "You're weird."

"Nice comeback." Paul chortles, pushing of the locker.

I playfully bump hips with him, or well, my hip to his leg because of the height difference and say, "Don't lie, you know I'm clever."

"Yeah, clever," Paul drawls out, bumping me back. "That's what you are."

"I'd rather be clever than what you are." I tease.

"And what am I exactly?"

I look both ways, whispering as if it's the biggest secret, "A lackey."

Paul snorts because this wasn't the first time I had commented on his position in Sam's posse. Paul always took it in stride and I knew that Paul was aware that if he could dish it out, he had be able to take it back in.

We make idle chatter until we reach the cafeteria doors and my heart rate picks up. I feel that my hands are a bit clammy and my gut clenches painfully with nerves. It felt like such a big step to do this with Paul, like if I didn't get approval that he'd drop this friendship.

I pause for a moment, my steps faltering. Paul stops with me, stepping closer and murmuring, "We don't have to sit with them, you know, we can eat lunch together like we've been doing."

I shake my head, smiling tightly, "No. It's okay. I want to eat lunch with them."

"You sure?"

"Yes." I say, walking ahead with confidence.

Paul remains in his spot watching me, I look back at him over my shoulder, "Are you checking out my ass?"

Paul sputters, "What? Uh, no, I mean, nothings wrong with your ass, in fact you've got a nice ass..."

"Paul!" I laugh, walking back over to him I grab his hand, "Stop thinking about my _nice_ ass and come on! We've got a lunch table to sit at."

I feel a blush staining my cheeks as the words fall past my lips but Paul just smirks shaking his head.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, I just, you're different."

"Different how?"

"I don't know. Just different."

I knew exactly what he was talking about. Over the past few weeks I had been feeling lighter, happier, really. I didn't know if it had anything to do with Paul, but I had been feeling less and less weighed down by everything.

I smile at him, walking into the cafeteria. I get into line grabbing something light, knowing my stomach was too much of a mess.

"That's it?" Paul pouts, looking at my simple salad and apple.

"Yup. No left overs for you today."

Paul sighs, looking mildly disappointed. "Can't you get something extra?"

"Nope. Why don't you just get something else?" I ask, eyeing is overflowing tray.

"But then people would look at me funny."

"Hate to break it to you Paul, but people already do."

"Are you saying I'm not normal?"

"Essentially." I tease, paying for my food.

"Oh, well, then, thanks for stooping so low as to socialize with the likes of me." Paul drawls sarcastically.

"I try, you know, to get involved with the less fortunate. I mean, you gotta start somewhere, right? Sure, I may be giving up some time, but it's all worth it." I jest, giggling at Paul.

"How can I ever repay you?" Paul pays along.

"You don't owe me anything." I smile, winking.

Paul is quiet and he looks all serious all of a sudden, deep in thought, almost. I frown at him, "You okay there, Paul?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine." He says.

I don't press, having learned that if Paul really wanted to tell me he would. We're just approaching his table and he stands up a bit straighter, placing a hand on my lower back.

"This is Bella," Paul says by way of greeting. "Bella, this is Sam, Emily, Kim, Jared, Embry, Quil, and Jacob."

I am greeted with a chorus of greetings and I wave back, smiling a little but I know it isn't reaching my eyes. They all look at me like I'm this foreign animal, an outlandish creature. Curiosity and excitement is in the eyes of Kim and Emily and the guys kind of look at me with this sort of disbelief. I feel my chest tighten with anxiety and tug at my shirt, smoothing it out. Paul sits down in a chair, motioning for me to sit in the one next to him. I sit down, placing the tray on my table and try to ignore the silence. I felt like a bug under a microscope at this point and I couldn't say I enjoyed the feeling. I kept my eyes on the table, nervously nibbling on my lower lip. But then I remember my thoughts from earlier and knowing that I needed to prove to Paul that I was strong, that I could handle this extended piece of him.

I lift my gaze, looking over at Paul before looking at Sam, "How's you're day been so far?"

"Good," He says and it's like the whole table relaxes, idle chatter filling my ears. "How have you been?"

He is asking about more than just my day and I know it. I smile, "Good, same old, same old."

I feel Paul's arm come up to rest behind the back of my chair and I feel a little bit better, a little bit more confident. I let out a breath before looking up to see Emily smiling at Sam, rubbing his arm that rests on the table. He looks back at her, smiling and moving his arm, wrapping it around her. They moved so fluidly, naturally.

For a startling moment, in my mind's eye, it's Paul and I interacting like that. My heart fills with this sort of longing and I quickly snuff it out. That would never happen. I push the thought from my mind and pick up my fork to start eating when Kim says, "So, Bella, what do you have this semester?"

I look up and rattle off my courses asking what she has in return. She tells me and before you know it we've launched into a conversation about where we want to go after high school and everything that comes with it.

"I want to be a teacher," Kim smiles, a twinkle in her eye. "I love kids, it's my dream to work with them at some point."

"Really?" I ask. "That's cool. I don't really know what I want to be."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Kim says. "From what I've heard you're quite the smart girl."

I glance over to Paul who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"What? You are smart." He mumbles.

I feel a sort of smile overtake my lips before I shake my head and snort.

"I am, am I?"

"Yes, Swan, you're smart."

I gasp, and sarcastically say, "Is that a compliment from _the_ Paul?"

"Yeah, enjoy it while you can, they're rare occurrences."

"Like your smiles?" I tease, poking him in the side.

Paul smirks, a smile tugging at his lips as he rolls his eyes.

I laugh and look away to see everyone staring at us.

I frown, "What is it?"

"I don't think I've heard Paul say so much in one sitting." Emily says, giggling.

I frown, thinking back to our many conversations where Paul had been more than talkative. I keep my thoughts to myself and make sure to ask paul about it later on. The rest of lunch rolls on by and I find that I enjoyed eating lunch with them. They were nice and I learned a lot about each of them. Quil and Embry were the jokers of the group with their hilarious antics that had me bursting at the seams. Emily and Kim were nice to me, asking if I wanted to hang out with them this weekend. Jacob had remained quiet, sitting and observing rather than joining in. I don't know why but there was something about Jacob that just made me want to help him out. Sam was quiet too, but in a different sort of way, it seemed to be in his nature. Paul was silent as well for the most part but I sensed that that was normal for Paul. He played with the ends of my hair throughout the entire meal and I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.

**P ~ B**

The rest of the school day had flown by and now Paul and I were chilling out my place. I was currently in the kitchen making some salsa when I feel him come up behind me. My heart flutters and a shiver runs its way down my back when I hear him rumble in that deep voice of his:a

"You did well today, Bella."

"Yeah?" I say, spinning around to face him.

"Definitely," He says and its now that I notice how close he is. "You were great."

I smile up at him and feel confusion swell up inside when he leans down, moving his face closer to my own. Dread fills my belly and I turn my head just when his lips would have met mine. I take in a sharp breath when I hear that sound of his and wince. He steps back, jaw clenched. I try to reach out for him but only the tips of my fingers skim his forearm because he jerks out of reach.

"Paul..." I whisper, the words not coming to me. I told him I could only be friends with him right now, for obvious reasons. Sure it was hard, but I was only trying to protect myself.

"What-the-fuck-ever, Swan." Paul snaps.

Anger surges through me, "Don't snap at me just because I didn't give you what you wanted. I told you, Paul. Can't you just respect that? Respect me?"

Paul just rolls his eyes and I shake my head at him.

"You know what, Paul? Fuck you. If you can't handle just being my friend and respecting my request you can go ahead and get the fuck out."

I almost expected him to apologize.

I almost thought he'd open his mouth, say okay, you're right.

But he didn't.

Of course not.

Instead, he says, "Fine. I'm done with this friendship crap. It wasn't even real anyway."

Hurt rolls through me and I frown. "You don't mean that."

Paul gets that hard look in his eyes. "I mean it. You were a waste of my time."

"Waste of time? Just because I didn't let you kiss me? You're a _real_ piece of work, Paul!"

He is leaving the kitchen.

Leaving me.

That's when I snap.

"You know what's a waste of time? You, Paul, you're a waste of time. You are this selfish asshole and I was a fool to think that there was more to you. I thought there was, but I've never been more wrong in my entire fucking life. So, Paul, thanks for living up to the expectations and wasting _my_ time. Paul, you really are a waste of my fucking time if you walk out that door!"

I am shouting at his back as I march over to him.

I hated that he was doing this to us.

To me.

He was destroying all the faith I had in him.

All the trust.

I draw in a shaky breath and feel like I am about to fall apart.

I didn't understand why everything was so intense.

How a few careless words could send us into the eye of the storm.

Paul begins to shake, his hands trembling and fear lances through me. He turns around, giving me a deadly glare. I bravely step forward, grabbing a trembling hand. I press myself close to him, bringing up my other hand to lay it on his neck. I direct his head to come closer to mine and I place a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth, "But please, _don_'_t_ be, don't be a waste of time Paul, because you don't have to be."

Paul rips himself away from me and my heart cracks just a little bit. I don't know why he is doing this. I couldn't understand him and I was past trying. The past three weeks had been so productive, so good. Even though it had only been those few weeks, I felt close to Paul. I knew him well and saw sides of him he didn't reveal often. I knew what ever mannerism meant and how to deal with them. But I didn't know what to do with him right now. He was acting so strange from the boy who had been my friend.

I look into his eyes and see a stranger.

His hand closes around the doorknob and in the last moment I have, I say, "Walk out that door and you don't get another chance, Paul. I won't forget this."

"Good thing I want you to remember then, huh?" He says, opening the door and slamming it shut behind him.

I feel my lower lip begin to tremble as I back away from the door, trying to keep it all in.

I had never felt so angry or disappointed in my life.

I had never been more certain either.

I was officially finished with Paul.

**P ~ B**

My anger and disappointment followed me like a shadow for the next two weeks. I didn't talk to Paul and he didn't talk to me. We both had come to the unspoken agreement that we weren't talking. Part of me wondered if I was horrible for giving up on the potential Paul had shown me, but then I also wondered if I would be a fool if I decided to try again.

I was nervous today though, it was the day of our presentations. I was going to present who I thought Paul was and vise versa. I was anxious to find out what he would say about me. I had no idea what he could even say about me. I wondered if any of it would be flattering. I had considered skipping English altogether, just to avoid another embarrassing moment. But I also couldn't help but want to stay and hear what exactly Paul thought of me.

I walk into the classroom I feared most, my eyes honing in on Paul immediately, uncontrollably. I fix my gaze elsewhere though and make it to my desk without issue. The teacher walks in then and the class begins. I hold my breath when she says who has to go first. I release it in a whoosh when it's neither Paul nor I. The first few presentations are alright, entertaining at best.

My stomach clenches when the teacher commands me to the front of the room so that I may present. I take in a deep breath, my cue cards feeling heavy in my hands as I approach the front of the class. I reach the front of it, my eyes scanning the faces of my classmates in what feels like slow motion. They look at me with critical eyes.

Girls assess my outfit.

Guys crinkle their noses.

I straighten my shoulders and begin, "Paul is one of the most confusing people I have ever met in my entire life."

The class room laughs lightly and I smile nervously, feeling Paul's heavy gaze upon me.

"Paul, can be a lot of things. Paul can be funny and smart. He can be mean and spiteful. He can be brutally honest and spare nothing. Paul has certain qualities that not a lot of us see.

"Paul, is fiercely loyal, and will stop nothing to protect those he cares about. His trust is hard to earn but easier to loose."

I finally meet his eyes, "Paul likes to live up to expectations. Everybody else's, but never his own. He will do whatever he thinks is expected of him even if it means his downfall."

I look away and say, "Paul is many things and his character cannot be described with a few simple adjectives and smartly placed nouns. Paul is whoever you _expect_ him to be."

I fall silent, indicating the end of my short, clipped presentation. I return to my seat, off kilter applause from my peers sounding out around me. The teacher calls on Paul now and he walks to the front of the class.

I hold my breath, clenching my eyes shut.

"I could stand up here and tell you a bunch of random facts, like Bella watches scary movies even though she doesn't like being scared. Or I could tell you that Bella reads about seven books per week. Or I could tell you that she can wiggle her ears, but none of that is really important." I can hear the smirk in his voice, and I peek one of my eyes open to see him almost smiling at me.

"Bella," Paul clears his throat. "Is beautiful."

The class twitters.

I blush.

"She is one of the most beautiful people I know. She is forgiving to a fault and likes to see the best in people, even me, and that's saying something."

I want to disappear.

"Bella's friendship is even harder to earn than her trust. But I learned that once you earn it, you get more than just the knowledge that she trusts you. Bella is true and giving and honest and a few more adjectives I can't think of. Bella is one of the most real people you could ever meet, and that is something to be valued."

The class is silent for a moment before a slow but awkward clap breaks through the silence. I wince and allow my hair to fall in such a way that it hides my face.

"Don't hide yourself, you're better than that." I hear Paul whisper as he takes his desk beside me.

I look over at him and don't know whether I should believe half the crap he said up there. I felt a stab of anger slice through my gut, he didn't have the right to tell me anything. How the fuck could he do that? Play those mind games with me and then says shit like that?

"I'm sorry." He whispers earnestly.

"I've heard that before." I snap bitterly.

The class moves on but it's like I am not even there. I am too wrapped up in the anger I am feeling. I couldn't believe his audacity. He calls me a waste of time but then says I am beautiful and real and true two weeks later. I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of this entire situation. I felt even sicker because a small corner of my heart believed him. I could be the poster child for abuse at this rate. I shouldn't want to believe him like I do. I shouldn't want to forget everything if it means having him back in my life.

What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?

I was going to find out today though.

It had been five weeks.

**P ~ B**

I didn't even know how I was going to do this, I thought as I observed Paul from across the parking lot. He was standing in his little group around the edge of it, his posture rigid as it always was. I had devised a plan at lunch that I was just going to go up to him and demand answers. Now, though, standing in the parking lot, feeling like I was about to crap my pants, the plan didn't seem so great. My gut is mangled in the grip of my nerves and I inhale shakily. Squaring my shoulders, I begin my slow walk over to him.

My feet feel heavy but I walk fast, leaving no time for them to drag. By the time I reach Paul my hands are shaking and I am pretty sure my legs are about to give out. I reach up and tap him on the shoulder.

He spins around, looking shocked to see me.

"It's been five weeks," I state, looking him in the eye. "I want my answers."

Paul nods, "We'll do this at my place."

Paul proceeds to give me directions and this whole exchange feels formal and impersonal.

My heart beats violently in my chest and my nerves are even worse than before. I somehow make it back to my truck. I open the door and start her up but the motions are robotic my mind spinning with what I might hear. I pull out of the parking lot, murmuring the directions under my breath so that I don't forget them. The directions to Paul's house are confusing and I almost miss his house but then I see the opening of the trees and I drive up the makeshift road. I roll to a slow stop in front of his home and I take in a deep breath.

I step out of the truck, the snow crunching underfoot as I head for the door. I am just walking up the stairs when I hear raised voices. I pause, walking back down the stairs as I follow the shouts. I walk around the side of the house, being the nosy person that I am, and pause when I come to a gate. It's slightly ajar and I push against it, walking into what must be Paul's backyard. The yelling is loud and I see that it is Sam and Paul who are fighting.

"I didn't give you permission, Paul!" Sam shouts, shoving him.

Paul clenches his jaw, just talking it, his eyes pointed to the ground.

"You're supposed to come to me before you do this, so that one of us can be there! You know you're not supposed to do this by yourself, Paul! What if you loose control? Did you even think about her safety at all you selfish bastard?" Sam berates him.

"I'd never hurt her! I'd never do to her what you did to Emily!" Paul bursts out shaking violently.

Sam makes this awful sound, shoving Paul roughly and my heart clenches painfully. This urge consumes me to protect Paul and before you know it I rushing forward, yelling, "Stop it!"

I am too late though.

Paul roars and with a sharp jerk he arches his back and explodes.

I blink a few times, my eyes must be fucked or I've gone insane because in Paul's place is this beastly animal. I gasp sharply and Sam turns around to see me.

"I-I..." I stutter, backing away.

"Bella," Sam moves forward but then the animal resembling a wolf cuts him off, growling, gnashing its teeth. The wolf comes to Sam's shoulder, it's that fucking huge. I hear Sam calling out to me again but I am too lost in examining this thing before me. A cell of my brain was connecting the dots, putting it all together, the rest though, were more concerned with what I had just seen. My thoughts were a jumbled mess and I pulled my eyes away from the charcoal grey animal to look into Sam's. He growls at the wolf who replies with one of its own.

"Go inside." Sam orders me.

My feet obey even as my eyes stay focused on the pair of them.

"Are you going to be alright with th-that thing?"

"Go!" He yells.

I scurry up the stairs of his back porch, feeling scared out of my wits. I burst into Paul's house, my hands shaking. I was a mess. Logics warred against what I had seen outside. I'm not given much time to mull everything over before Sam walks into the house, finding me shaking like a leaf in the kitchen.

"He'll be soon, just give him a minute."

"H-he?"

"Paul." Sam says slowly.

My head begins to shake and panic consumes me. What had I gotten myself into?

My lips tremble and my eyes fill with tears. Just when I am about to ask what this has to do with me, Paul walks in. He is only wearing shorts, barefoot and shirtless. My heart thumps in my chest at the sight of him. Fear and desire blur together and I feel ashamed of myself. I look away from his bare torso and die when I hear Sam murmur, "Be careful, I won't be far off."

His foot steps echo in the silence and the sound of the door shutting seems loud. I remain silent, not knowing what to do with myself. The tears spill over when Paul steps closer to me. I take in a sharp breath when he says, "Look at me, Bella."

I lift my eyes to meet his and let out a whimper.

I had never felt so afraid.

What was he?

What did that mean for me?

Was I even safe?

He moves to grab my hand but I act quickly, stepping out of reach.

He winces and I choke on the sob that is dying to escape.

"What happened out th-there? What the fuck are you?" I say, my voice thick and wobbly with tears.

"What you saw was real. I am a shapeshifter."

"What? A shapeshifter? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

He approaches me cautiously, "Maybe you should sit down, you're looking a bit unsteady."

"I don't give to shits!" I yell shrilly. "I want to know what the fuck that was!"

"I'm a werewolf," Paul says quietly. "We all are."

"The guys?" I say, my voice barely a whisper.

"Yes."

"Emily got that..."

"Sam got angry and lost control. He phased and she got hurt. We phase when we're angry, it's hard to control."

I just nod and try to absorb a little bit of what I was hearing.

Paul was a werewolf.

"I need to sit down." I whisper and Paul directs me into the living room.

I sit on the couch, hugging a pillow to my chest, as I try to sort through everything. Paul lets me think, sitting in the chair across from me. I don't know how long my pondering goes on for but then I ask, "What does this have to do with me?"

Paul clears his throat before saying, "When a wolf meets his mate, it's called Imprinting. You're my Imprint, Bella."

"Oh." My voice is hollow. "That's why I feel this way towards you?"

He nods.

"What does Imprinting entail?" I ask, almost not wanting the answer.

"Well, ah, it's hard to explain," Paul mumbles. "It's basically what I said. You're my mate. The one person best suited for me. When a wolf Imprints, his whole life is dedicated to the well being of his mate."

"Then why were you so mean to me?" I whispered, hurt shooting through me.

"Because I didn't want you to be my Imprint." Paul admits, cradling his head in his hands.

"Because I'm ugly." I whisper, nodding my head as I think back to that day in the drive way.

"I wanted you to suffer," Paul says, looking at me with guilty eyes, "I wanted you to suffer like I was. I didn't see how you could be my Imprint, you just weren't what I wanted. I didn't understand why you were mine."

"So let me get this straight," I say, my voice trembling, "You punished me for being who I was, just because you didn't like what you saw?"

He nods.

"You bastard!" I sob, "Do you know what you put me through? _Do_ _you_?"

He just bows his head.

"Look at me!" I shout, my voice cracking. "I fell apart because of you. I felt like shit day in and day out because of you, and you knew it! You knew what you were doing! I felt like nothing, Paul, like I didn't deserve to be who I was, because of you!"

I am standing now and I feel like I am going to be sick.

My heart is at my throat and my stomach is at my feet.

I am a complete mess as I look at the boy who tormented me.

I sob violently, "You..you bastard! I fucking hate you!"

Paul stands suddenly, "What about the past three weeks?"

"What about them?" I echo, my eyes filled with tears. "What about the four months of hell you put me through? What about the fact that I still feel unworthy? That I still feel like a freak? That I still feel ugly?"

I hurl myself at him, punching, kicking, screaming as we tumble to the floor.

"Stop it!" Paul orders.

I punch harder.

I scream louder.

I am straddling his waist, trying to make him feel the pain I felt.

"Enough!" He roars, rolling us over so that I am pinned under him.

I sob, weakly batting at his chest, and ask, "Why?"

"Because I could." Paul pants, his chest heaving against mine. "Because you were mine to do what I saw fit with."

My face feels warm and the tears trickle down from my eyes, down my temples. I am gasping for breath when I say, "I don't want this."

"Bella." Paul whispers brokenly.

"Get off of me." I sniffle, pushing against his chest.

He doesn't move.

"Please, Paul." I plead.

He moves away even though half of me cries out for him to come back.

I feel like crying all over again and I whimper, "Will I ever be free of you?"

"No." He whispers harshly, from his spot next to me.

We both lay there on the floor of his living room, our breaths the only sounds to be heard.

"Why'd you leave two weeks ago?"

"I was starting to see you...differently. I didn't want to feel that way."

I feel tears well up and the lump at the back of my throat swells.

I let the tears slide down my cheeks, "I don't understand this, why am_ I_ your Imprint?"

"I don't know, the legends say that it's fate."

Helplessness washes over me and the tears worsen. My hiccuping breaths seem loud in my ears, and I feel Paul's eyes on me.

I look over at him, blinded by my tears, I fail to see his hand reach out to wipe them away.

"Don't!" I roll away from him, sobbing as I try to get up. "Don't fucking touch me."

He looks defeated and stands up with more grace than I did.

Then again, he is super natural.

I wipe my eyes roughly, "What does this mean?"

"It means that we are going to want things from each other," He murmurs. "It means that we are going to _need_ things from each other."

"I can't do this," I cry. "Not when I know what you did to me. All the games you played."

I begin to back away, stumbling away from him.

He watches me go.

Our eyes meet for a fleeting moment and for once, Paul's eyes aren't guarded.

Pain swims in his orbs, swirling with regret and defeat.

It was the first time that I felt like I actually saw Paul.

I burst from his house, running to my truck and hopping in. I peel out of the drive way, tears pressing against the back of my eyes. I make it halfway home before I have to pull over on the shoulder of the road. I fold my arms over the steering wheel and and lay my forehead over them as I let the tears fall. I sob and cry and let everything go. You'd think I'd done enough at Paul's but it appeared as though I had an endless supply of tears today.

I sniffle, wipe my eyes for the millionth time and look in my rearview mirror.

I swear for a moment, I saw a charcoal grey wolf in the forest beside me.

Were we really meant to be?

**A/N: I am so sorry that the chapter took so long to get out there. **

**Worth the wait?**

**What do you all think of Bella now?**

**Still not liking Paul?**

**Where do you think these two are headed?**

**If you're still reading, thanks for sticking with me!**

**Play List:**

**Hospital Beds - Florence & The Machine**

**Bulletproof - La Roux**

**Milk - Kings of Leon**

**Modern Romance - Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Mysteries - Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Runaway - Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**Gravity -Sara Bareilles**

**I Just Wanna Be Free, Man - The Handcuffs**

**I'm Not Calling You A Liar - Florence & The Machine**

**Hard Enough - Brandon Flowers**

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello, I was a bit quicker this time!**

**So, just an important thing for you all to read follows...**

**A lot of people have been reviewing and saying things like: **

_**Bella said she was 115 pounds in the recent chapter, isn't she supposed to be, like, plus size? **_

**In response to this, Bella did not say **_**she**_** herself was 115 pounds, but that Paul wanted a girl who was; she said this: **

_I feel my nerve gain a little bit more edge when he opens his mouth again, "I just, I don't know, you expect so much from me, Swan. You want me to be this nice guy who dotes on you and this great friend and I can't be that. It isn't who I am."_

_"What? And you don't want me to be someone else? You want this complacent, do whatever you say, girl who weighs one hundred and fifteen pounds."_

**That was from Chapter 7, now reading this very closely, Bella does not say she is 115 pounds, she says that Paul **_**wants**_** her to be 115 pounds, not that she **_**is**_**. Get it? **

**In the story Bella is plus size, she is size fourteen, curvy with a little extra meat on her bones. **

**If you're still confused, PM and I can explain it a little bit better.**

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. **

**I don't own anything, it is all S.M's**

**R&R**

**Chapter 9: Sleeping Sickness**

There was a reason that I didn't watch supernatural movies. I didn't like them. So, you can imagine just how great I feel right about now, since, you know, Paul is a werewolf. Half of my brain was denying it, but the other had hopped on the crazy train and was seriously mulling it over. I didn't know how to manage it, how to react to it, how to treat it, nothing, I was about as clueless as a dumb blonde on Jeopardy.

I was at home now, laying it my bed, elbow deep in used tissues with swollen eyes and a blotchy face. While my brain tried to get over, or I should say accept the fact that Paul was more abnormal than I thought, my heart was tearing itself apart. I knew I probably wasn't helping matters by throwing this pity party of monumental proportions, but come on, I just found out the dude I'd been crushing on was a freaking werewolf who basically found me to be repulsive.

I couldn't believe that he had done that to me. That he had played those games to make me suffer for being who I was. I couldn't help the fact that my genetics were less than what he needed or the fact that no matter how much I dieted or how much I exercised that I couldn't seem to loose the excess weight. My inner cynic wasn't so surprised but I felt so hurt because I had almost forgotten about the boy who had hurt me so much. But now when I thought of Paul all I could see was that boy who made my life hell for those four months. A small corner of my heart was reminding me of those three weeks but I felt so much hurt; so much pain.

Tears fill my eyes and I let out a violent sob. I didn't know what to do with myself. I hated him so much, my gut burned with the feeling, but at the same time I didn't. How it was possible, I had no idea.

That wasn't the worst part though. My brain had dissected this issue to no end, turning up horrific results. I had come to the realization that I would never know what it felt like to have someone like me for _me_. I would never find a boy who loved me just the way I was. Paul was roped into feeling things for me, or lack there of. I would never have a first date; I would never know what it felt like to be cherished; I would never know a lot of things.

I sit up in my bed, rubbing my eyes as I try to swallow it all. I couldn't.

I felt pathetic and weak as I cried, mourning for something I would never know.

I felt hopeless as I cried out for something, begging whoever was listening for some sort of release.

I received no answer.

I curl in on myself and try to stop the tears, clenching my eyes shut.

I could hear his words, flowing through my mind.

_I wanted you to suffer like I was. _

I clamp my hands over my ears, letting out a tortured sort of keen.

_I didn't understand how you could be mine. _

The sobs are so loud, but not as loud as these poisonous truths.

_You weren't what I wanted._

I let out a scream, grabbing the first thing my hand finds and launch it at the wall. The lamp hits the hard surface with a violent crash, shattering into a bunch of pieces, dousing the room in darkness.

Finally.

I couldn't see the cracks anymore.

I close my eyes to everything and cry and cry and cry until the darkness swallows me up.

I awake the next morning to a beeping alarm and sore eyes. I slam my hand down on to the alarm, silencing it and rolling over. I wasn't going into school today. It may have been sad, hell, it may have even been pitiful, but I was not up to seeing Paul. I couldn't look at him; even just thinking about him made my stomach flip, and not in that good way it usually did.

I let the darkness pull me under not even fighting it; the peace it brought was nice.

That was my entire morning, drifting in and out, with a brief interruption from my mother who asked me why I wasn't in school. No questions about if I was alright, or why there was a broken lamp, or why her daughter had fashioned a quilt out of salty tissues. I fed her some lame excuse about having bad cramps and she ate it right up before leaving for work.

I sometimes wondered if my mother even liked me.

I mean, I'm sure she loved me, but, really, did she _like_ me?

We never spent any time together.

Ever.

She didn't even like to talk to me.

She didn't like to hear from me.

Hear about my day.

Hear about school.

Hear about me period.

I tried not to let it get to me; because I knew that there were teenagers who had it worse off than me. I knew some kids my age didn't have a mother or a father, or a set of parents that put a roof over there head. I knew I was lucky. I knew that; but was a little interest a little too much to ask for?

By the time one o'clock rolled around I knew I had milked this for long enough. It was time to get out of bed and at least have a shower, do something, anything. I drag my sorry ass out of my bedroom and into the bathroom. I turn the knobs of my shower, adjusting the temperature of the water. I strip down, and am just about to get in to the stall when I pause before the mirror.

I stare, openly at my naked form, scrunching my nose up. I run my hands across my belly and feel its softness. I take in my round hips and thighs, shaking my head. I trace the stretch marks with the tips of my fingers, wishing I could rub them away. I couldn't, though.

I turn away, hopping into the shower. I linger there, under the heated spray, wishing I could wipe my mind clean from the words I had heard yesterday. I didn't understand how he could do that, regardless of the fact that he had felt the need to punish me. How did he not feel guilty? How did he just keep on hurting me, knowing what he was doing to me?

I feel sick to my stomach as the questions filter through my mind. I turn my face up to the spray, trying to clear my head. I couldn't keep thinking about it like this. It didn't matter whether I could understand it or not; Paul had done it, and that was all that really mattered at the end of the day. I finish up in the shower, throwing on an old sweat shirt and comfy sweat pants when I get out. I go down into the kitchen and grab a snack before moving into the living room.

I put on a movie, grab a blanket and get comfortable. I need to distract myself, take my mind off of Paul and his hairy self. I never really enjoyed movies, the ending never felt realistic. I mean, really, happily ever afters weren't as easy or well scripted like they made them. The movie was some sort of romantic comedy, more romance than comedy, if you ask me. The credits roll across my screen and I take the disc out so I can watch regular television.

I am just flipping through the channels mindlessly when there is a knock at the door. Frowning I get up, walking over and opening it up. My heart freezes, before thumping violently when I see it is Paul standing there. I immediately recall the horrific moments of the past for months, what he did to me, what he said. They move like a movie through my mind and I can't believe that he has the audacity to show up on my doorstep like this.

"What do you want?" I snap, all my anger rushing forth.

"You weren't in school today."

"So what?"

"Bella, I'm sorry-"

"What. Do. You. Want?" I demand. "I don't want to hear your apologies or whatever fucking excuse you've come to give me. If that's what your here for then you can just leave."

Paul clenches his jaw and I can tell it is driving him up the wall to let me talk to him like this. Well, too fucking bad, he deserved whatever I was going to give him at this point. He lets out a deep sigh before opening and closing his mouth. The bitter taste of contempt floods my mouth and a snarl curls my lip as I let out a huff of my own.

"I don't have all day, Paul."

"I'm sorry-"

I slam the door shut in his face, cutting him off. I was absolutely livid; how dare he come over here. I knew it was with good intentions, he wanted to apologize; but excuse me if I didn't give two shits. I didn't understand how he thought a simple trip over here and an apology could even begin to remedy what had occurred. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't even ready to sort through this cluster fuck of a situation. Granted Paul didn't know that I wanted space, but I figured Paul was just going to have to deal with it, because I had dealt with more than enough from him, that was for sure.

I hear a loud curse from the other side of the door, something sounding distinctly like bitch. My hackles rise and before I know it I've ripped the door open and am yelling, "What the hell did you just say?"

His back is to me and I watch as it goes rigid.

"What the fuck did you just say?" I demand.

He slowly turns around, "I may have called you a bitch."

I laugh mirthlessly, "I'm a bitch? _I'm_ a bitch?"

"I came over to apologize," Paul snaps, backing away, moving from my porch to my lawn. "But I guess that doesn't matter."

"No!" I shout. "It doesn't fucking matter!"

I stomp down on to the lawn, placing my hands on his chest and shoving him roughly. He doesn't move, instead grabbing my wrists, "Why doesn't it matter? I'm sorry I hurt you, Bella. I mean it, I am so sorry."

"Why doesn't it matter?" I echo shrilly.

I tear myself away from him, putting space between us.

"It doesn't matter, Paul, because it isn't real," I say, but my voice sounds all weird, wobbly and uneven; I can't seem to speak around the lump in my throat. "It doesn't matter because to pull shit like this too often. You come to apologize, but call me a bitch when I am not ready to listen.

"It doesn't matter, because I don't care. I don't care because you are a cruel, selfish bastard who is incapable of feeling anything. You're not sorry for what you did; you're just sorry that you're having to deal with it. So, please, do me a solid, and save me all this shit."

I had hoped I would feel better for calling him out on his shit, but I didn't.

"It is real." Paul insists, quietly.

"It is not!" I snap, walking away. "You wouldn't even need to feel sorry if you hadn't done it in the fucking first place."

"Fuck you!" Paul shouts.

I spin around, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me; fuck you! You have no idea how it felt to be in my position. To be tied to some person that you didn't want, to be forced into something. You have know idea what it is like to be in my position period." Paul rants, his arms moving about.

I slowly walk over to him. "Did it make you feel better?"

"What?"

"Treating me like shit."

"Yes, at the time it did."

"You make me sick." I say, feeling like someone had kicked me in the stomach.

"It doesn't make me feel better now though. I regret...I regret what I did to you."

"Too late, Paul," The tears run down my cheeks. "Because the damage is done. You are the reason that I had panic attacks. You are the reason that every time I see, or even think about you, that I feel ugly. You are the reason I cried myself to sleep for those four months and last night. _You_ are my regret. I regret letting you scare me. I regret letting you get to me. But most of all, fuck, I regret ever giving you a chance."

He pales as my speech goes on and I don't feel any better. I don't feel the way I think I am supposed to feel. The worst part is is that I just want this all to go away, in fact I wish that I could rewind it all, return to the atmosphere of those three weeks when things were simple.

When we were just Paul and Bella.

When I was able to forget the four months.

When I felt good.

When I could trust him.

When I could feel good around him.

When I had a friend.

"I'm sorry."

I let out a tortured sound, "Just leave, Paul."

"Not until you know that it's real." He says, stepping forward and grabbing my hand.

It's so warm and the pain in my heart lightens a bit.

"Leave."

I tug my hand out of his.

I begin to back away, leaving him standing there on my lawn. I didn't quite understand why we operated this way. We fought each other so much, yelling and not caring what we said. It wasn't healthy, which only made this all the more confusing. How was this turmoil fated? How was it that we were thrown together?

**P ~ B**

The next few weeks float past me and I barely notice, caught in this strange limbo. The snow melted and the grass got a little bit greener.

I was so angry and put off by Paul that I ignored him, avoiding him at all costs. I would skip lunch or cut out of fourth period early just to remove the risk of having to deal with him. He tried to talk to me every single day, tried to apologize, tried to make me listen; but I wasn't having it. I held on to my anger, using it to keep myself together. But I wondered why he wasn't using his old tactics of intimidation. I wondered why he hadn't taken his methods from those four months and applied them now.

Part of me yearned to sit down and actually listen to Paul, to let him plead his case. But my angry, bitter and scorned side won every time and I shunned the voice of what was probably reason. I knew it wasn't a good approach to the entire situation but I wanted to get even. I wanted him to know that I was taking the control back, that he couldn't play with me anymore. Either Paul was handing over the reigns or was just giving me space, it didn't matter though; I was enjoying this new found freedom.

In the first week Emily and Kim stopped by, but I didn't let them stay for long. I figured that they had known what was going on, and when I asked them about it, I was right. The two girls were both aware that Paul was being less than kind, but they claimed that they didn't know it was so bad. I asked them how they didn't stop it, or do something to help me, and the answer I received didn't satisfy. They said that it was the process, that they weren't allowed to interfere, as ordered by Sam. That made me all the more angry. That was one fucked up group, not even counting the supernatural factor.

Speaking of the supernatural, a small part of my mind just wanted some answers. I wanted to sit down with Paul and ask him all about this situation, but I knew I wasn't quite ready to do that. If I did that I knew that he'd find a way to get me to forgive him. I knew that he would his charm and his suave ways to pull me back in. I wasn't ready to surrender yet.

It was a Friday night and Sue's Diner was pretty empty. Usually there was a few kids my age present but none were here tonight. I picked at my meal and was startled when I heard Sue call my name.

"Yeah?" I lift my head, seeing Sue standing before me.

"You okay, Bella? That sure is a nice shade of purple you got under your eyes."

I give a dry chuckle, she was nothing if not honest. "Thanks, Sue."

"What? It's true, little missy. What's going on with you?" She prods again, leaning on the counter between us.

Sue was so sweet to me and as tempted as I was to unload on her (not the werewolf shit) but just the shit Paul did, I couldn't. She had her own teenage daughter, and she wasn't responsible for me. The only thing she was to do for me was to deliver my meals and freshen up my coffee.

"Nothing," I mumble. "Just stressed from school."

"Uh-huh," Sue hums. "I'll take your answer, but that don't mean I believe it for a second."

I smirk at her, bringing my cup to my lips, "Where are the usual suspects?"

I am hoping my questions about the absence of customers will distract her.

Before she can answer, Leah, Sue's daughter, emerges from the back in some hip hugging jeans and cute top. Sue looks at the out fit and arches her eyebrow, "I sure hope there's a cardigan to go with that shirt, young lady."

"Come on, Ma, I am going to a party..."

"I don't care where you're going. Cover up."

Leah rolls her eyes, disappearing into the back again. When she reenters she is wearing a black cardigan, "Happy?"

"As a pig in shit." Sue says cheekily, smiling at her daughter.

Leah laughs before looking over at me, "Hey, Bella."

"Hey." I say.

I am thinking that this is the end of our exchange and am completely surprised when Leah puts on her jacket and asks, "Want to come with?"

"To where?"

"The party, down at the beach." She smiles, showing off her straight teeth.

"Uh..."

"Go with her!" Sue urges.

I am so thrown off and I must look because Leah throws her head back and laughs, "Come one, girl, you are so coming out with me, you look like you need a little fun."

"Uh, thanks?"

Leah just shakes her head and says, "Well, we don't have all night, put on your jacket."

I stand up, throwing some bills onto the table and shove my arms into the sleeves of my jacket. I didn't really know why I was doing this. I mean, parties weren't my thing. But, how often did I get invited to one? Never. Leah seemed nice enough, and well, she was right, I could use a little fun. A thrill runs through me at my out of character behavior and I hold onto the excitement, not wanting to change my mind and chicken out.

She smiles at me and before I know it, we're walking out of the diner and headed for the sandy shores of La Push.

"I have to warn you, I'm no good at these things, I mean, uh, I've never..." My voice trails off.

"Relax," Leah smiles at me. "You'll feel like a natural, after a drink. A beer or two will loosen you up."

My gut clenches nervously.

Was this a good idea?

_Shut_ _up_, my inner voice says, _don't be such a wimp_.

I try to play it cool, nodding my head, pretending like I know what she's talking about. I didn't though, the only alcohol I had ever drank was a glass of champagne last New Year.

"So, uh, if you don't mind me asking...why'd you invite me to the party?"

Leah shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know, I mean, you look like you needed a night out."

I nod my head and the only sounds to be heard are our foot steps for a little while. But then Leah breaks the silence, "Did you know a full grown bear can run as fast as a horse?"

I chuckle, "No, I didn't. Thanks for that piece of information."

Leah laughs, "Sorry, random facts are sort of my thing. For example, moist air holds heat better than dry hair."

I look at her from the corner of my eye, "Just how many of these facts do you know?"

"Only enough to blow your mind."

For the rest of the walk Leah tells me a lot of random facts. I don't mind though because her little tidbits keep me distracted from the nerves. I know we are close, I can hear music faintly.

"So, Bella," Leah starts and my stomach flips. "What's your story with Paul?"

"There isn't one."

She laughs, "Yeah, okay."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Not really, no," Leah smirks, looking over at me. "There's no way there isn't something going on between the two of you, not when he looks at you all the time in that way he does."

"Do you also stalk people in addition to collecting random facts?" I quip, trying to get her to leave it alone.

She chuckles, "Ouch, but no, I was just asking."

"Well, there's nothing for me to tell. There is a whole lot of nothing between him and I."

She just nods and my stomach flips because the party is in sight now. My steps falter, "Leah, I don't know if I should be here..."

"Are you a high school student?"

"Yes."

"Then you should be here, at this high school party," Leah smiles at me. "Listen, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but, dude, you have to loosen up a bit. It's clear you've never done this before, and that's fine, but just go with it, enjoy the scene."

I just nod follow her.

We move onto the beach, the noise enveloping us along with the crowd of noisy teenagers. She presses her way through and I quickly fill her spot, not wanting to loose Leah in the chaotic mass of bodies. Soon we make it to where ever Leah was leading us to, and walks over to a group of kids our age. She smiles widely at them and they all greet her warmly. I hang back, toeing the sand.

"Everybody," Leah says, "This is Bella, she's cool and ready to party tonight."

The group cheers and Leah laughs waving me in. I step over, feeling like something major is about to happen. I don't know what, but I am on the cusp of something big, something great. Leah presses a red plastic cup into my hand.

"What is this?" I shout over the music.

"Beer! Just drink it!" She laughs, taking a large pull from the cup in her own hand.

I tentatively bring the drink to my lips, taking a little sip. It's warm in my mouth and I wonder if this would taste a little better served cold. I gulp it down, scrunching my nose up. Leah looks at my expression and shakes her head, smirking, "After a few more, it won't matter what it tastes like!"

I take a large swig of my beer, halving it. I swallow it quickly and ask Leah, "Why are you doing this for me?"

Leah just shrugs like she did when I asked her before, "Truthfully?"

I nod.

"There is something about you, a sort of charming pathetic quality, and I don't know, I just wanted to help you out, like I said; you need a good night out!"

A stinging hurt shoots through my gut; was I really so outwardly pathetic? I shake my head, chugging the rest of the beer; I was done being pathetic, I was going to have the good time Leah thought I so desperately needed. She watches me with raised eye brows and I just smile widely, my face feeling warm for some reason, "Where can I get another beer?"

Leah grins and points me toward the keg. I go over to it, filling my cup to the brim. I take a large sip and nearly spit it out when I hear, "Bella?"

I turn to face Paul, the red cup still at my lips, "Yes?"

"What are you doing?" He sounds pissed.

"Having a good time!" I shout, taking two large swigs from my cup.

He shakes his head, grabbing my arm, "You don't belong here, let's go."

I jerk out of his grip, my drink sloshing around in my cup, "No. You don't control me and I am going to stay; have a good time like Leah told me to!"

My body feels all warm and I can't help but wonder if it's from the beer. Is this the buzz that everybody talks about? I feel fantastic so I take another sip from my red cup and begin to walk away from Paul. He lets me go, but I still feel his eyes on me.

I rejoin Leah and she looks over my shoulder, probably seeing Paul, "You sure there's nothing between you and him?"

"Positive!" I yell, the red cup at my lips again.

She laughs and bumps the rim of her cup with mine, "To a good night!"

"To a good night!" I echo, taking a drink.

I don't know how many times the red cup touched my lips, but every time it did, there was always something in it for me to drink. I liked it a lot, the beer; it made me feel good. It took away all the hurt and confusion, replacing it with something way better. It was like I couldn't feel anything at all. Leah made regular trips to the keg for the both of us and before you know it, I am drunk off my ass.

I don't know what time it is, but I can't find Leah. She said that she'd be right back when she walked off with that boy but it's been a while. I stumble, nearly falling and a giggle escapes my lips. I place my hand on a nearby tree and try to steady myself. I push off of it and take about two steps before I am careening towards the sand. I hit the ground with a laugh and laugh even harder when I see Paul marching towards me.

"Uh-oh," I mumble, trying to get up but I can't; I just fall back on my ass. "Here comes grumpy gills..."

Paul looks down at me, "Having a good time, Bella?"

He sounds angry but he shouldn't be angry, I'm the one who should be angry. My thoughts are all jumbled and the music is too loud for me to think properly.

"Yes, sir-ee, I am having a greaat time!" I slur.

Paul just looks at me with those angry eyes and I frown up at him, "I can't get up, Paul."

He shakes his head before taking my hands in his and pulling me up. I stumble into him, slamming against his chest. He holds me there, steadying me and he sighs, "Jesus, Bella, how drunk are you?"

"Drunk enough." I groan into his chest.

"Oh, Bella..." Paul mumbles.

"Don't you 'Oh, Bella' me, Paul!" I snap, pushing away from him, but I don't get very far. He pulls me back in, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, guiding me away from the beach.

"We have to get you home," Paul says. "Before you do something you'll regret."

"I have a lot of regrets." I say, looking up into his eyes.

"I know, Bella, you told me."

"I'm sorry about that," I hiccup. "I...you're not my regret, Paul, you're too pretty for me to regret."

Paul laughs and says, "You really are drunk."

I nod, and ask, "Where are we going?"

"To my car. I am going to take you home."

"But I don't wanna go home!" I yell, my voice all slurred.

"Too bad," He growls at me. "You're my mate, and over my dead body are you going to be fall down drunk at some random party."

I peer up at him, "What if I don't wanna be your mate?"

"Too bad, you are."

"Too bad, you are," I mimic, scrunching my nose up. "I'm Paul and I know everything, blah, blah, fucking blah."

"You're drunk and you need to sleep it off."

"You're drunk!" I say back.

"Jesus Christ, Bella."

"Nope," I say. "Just Bella, no Jesus before that. I'm just Bella."

I giggle and Paul just rolls his eyes.

"Why aren't you laughing, Paul?"

"This isn't funny."

"I think it's a riot."

Paul just ignores me, and unlocks his car now that we've reached it. He gets me all settled in the passenger side and then moves around to the driver's side before hopping in.

I watch as the tree's fly by, wishing I was back at the party. Paul was killing my buzz, making me feel all these emotions I didn't want to well...feel. I was just about ready to jump from the car when Paul saddled up to my place. I fumbled with my seat belt, but in my drunken state I was struggling. Paul unbuckles me, grumbling something under his breath. I just ignore him and manage to open the door. I move to get out but just end up falling onto my lawn. I am trying to get up when I feel Paul behind me, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me up.

I feel so good in his arms, I note before stumbling away from him, "No touchy."

Paul ignores my command, wrapping his arm back around my waist and leading me up the walkway and onto my porch.

"I can walk." I snap, digging in my bag for my keys.

Paul just growls at me and releases me now that we're on my porch. I fish out my keys and am attempting to unlock the door when Paul asks, "Where are your parents?"

"Away on business trips or something." I mumble, focusing on trying to guide the key into the lock.

I miss again when Paul asks, "Both of them?"

"Yes," I get the key into the lock. "Both of them."

I stumble inside my house and place a hand on the wall to steady myself. Paul follows me inside, closing the door behind him.

"What are y-you doing?" I hiccup.

"Making sure you get to bed alright," Paul sighs. "Up stairs, Bella, come on, I'm not trying to take advantage of you, I just want to take care of you."

I turn around and begin my ascent, practically tripping up the stairs. Each stumble earns Paul's hands on me, making sure I'm okay. His hands burn where they touch and my panties begin to dampen. I make it to my bedroom and flop onto the bed, shoes and all.

I feel Paul's hands at my ankle, removing my boot. I sigh and stare up at the ceiling, "Paul?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you like me?" I ask boldly, it must be the beer.

A sort of half smile hangs on Paul's lips, "I do like you, Baby-Girl, a little too much I think."

My heart clenches.

My mind remembers the pain.

"Then why did you make me suffer? Why did you hurt me?"

Paul is removing my other boot, gently rubbing my ankle, "That was before I knew you, before I knew more than what I saw."

I nod and know that I am sobering up.

"Do you still feel...upset that I'm your, um, mate?"

"I'm beginning to understand why you're mine." Paul answers, pulling the blanket at the bottom of my bed up and over me.

I look up at him. "Thank you, Paul, for taking care of me tonight."

"No problem."

There is a pause for a beat or two and I ask timidly, "Will, you, um, stay, at least until I fall asleep?"

I don't know why but I didn't want to be alone tonight. It was getting harder and harder to ignore Paul and the intense pull I had to him. I knew that I was probably stupid for inviting him to stay, but it had been so long since we had been together and I missed him, somehow. It must have been the bond or something.

Paul smirks down at me before nodding his head. He toes off his shoes, and sits on top of the covers beside me. I feel mildly awkward with Paul in my bed but I just close my eyes and mumble, "Thank you."

The only reply I receive is a sort of man grunt and I snuggle into my sheets further. I want to sleep but I can't, not with him sitting right next to me. I want to ask him so many things. I want to tell him to leave, but then I don't at the same time. I want to yell at him some more for what he did to me but I know it won't do any good.

"Bella?" Paul asks quietly.

I open my eyes, looking over at him, "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

Sighing, I begin to sit up, mimicking is position of resting my back against the head board.

"I know you are."

"I mean it, I do."

"I know."

"Then why won't you listen? Why do you ignore me?"

"Because I can. Because...I'm not ready for all of this." I wave my hand through the air.

Paul just sighs.

A pain feels my heart and I know that I can't handle being on my own for much longer. I just missed the Paul I knew over those three weeks. Hell, I missed his honesty even if it was about me.

"Is it normal to miss you this much?" I whisper.

"Yeah," Paul's hand finds mine, giving it a squeeze. "It is. Especially since the bond is so new; apparently this is the time when we rely on each other most."

I let him hold my hand and I know that the alcohol in my system isn't affecting me anymore. I wonder if I'll ever be able to forget what happened, but I had to, I guess; holding a grudge against him wasn't really an option.

I look over at him and tears press against the back of my eyes when he asks, "Will you ever forgive me?"

I close my eyes, and feel a tear escape my closed lid, "I hurt so much, Paul."

His hot lips are on my cheek, stopping the tear in its tracks, "I wish I could take it all away."

"You've changed," I murmur, looking at him through my moist eyes. "You've changed so much."

He nods, pulling away. "I know. But not entirely."

Another tear escapes, "I miss you even though I shouldn't."

"I miss you too my sweet girl." He squeezes my hand again.

"I want to be angry with you," I sigh, wiping my tears away. "And I am, but not as much as I should be. I'm just so tired, Paul. I'm so tired of trying to be angry and trying not to miss you and trying not to feel..."

Paul removes his hand from mine, running to up my arm and into my hair so that his thumb is amble to catch the wetness falling from my eyes. I sniffle and nearly die when he murmurs, "Don't cry over me, I'm not worth your tears."

I close my eyes and pull his hand away from my face. I bring it down between us, intertwining my digits with his. I stare down at our joined hands and marvel at how neatly, how perfectly, they fit together.

"Why don't you believe me when I say sorry?" Paul asks, stroking his thumb over my hand.

"The truth?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe you, because you don't know what you are apologizing for."

We remain silent for a few moments and I whisper, "I want to tell you how I felt, how you made me feel...during those four months, from the beginning. I want to tell you how I felt during those three weeks, when we were friends and how I felt when you walked away. I want to tell you everything."

"And after, if I apologize again, having heard it all, you'll believe me?"

"Maybe."

"Okay."

It was going to be a long night.

**A/N: So...**

**Worth the wait?**

**Anyone disappointed in Bella?**

**Anyone proud of Bella? **

**Anyone feeling just a little bit bad for Paul?**

**Anyone wishing that these two would just sit down and talk about the shit storm between them already? **

**Do you think Bella should forgive him?**

**Let me know in a review.**

**Thanks for sticking with me and reading thus far. **

**The reviews I receive are much appreciated; so if you are reviewing, I truly appreciate your words. **

**Playlist:**

**Sleeping Sickness - City & Color**

**Howl - Florence & the Machine**

**The Funeral - Band of Horses**

**California Waiting - Kings of Leon**

**Until next time!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Here it is. **

**Better late than never, right?**

**Sorry. **

**Again. **

**Hope you all enjoy it. **

**Let me know what you think. **

**R&R**

**I don't own any of it; S.M does. **

**Chapter 10: Tape Song**

Speaking my mind was extremely difficult, especially because I was dealing with Paul. I knew I was sharing a lot here, with him, but I knew that it was the only way I could get through this. I needed Paul to know why I was struggling so much, why this was so freaking hard for me. Not that I owed him an explanation, because really, at this point I would feel perfectly justified in never talking to him again. But somewhere deep, deep, deep down, I knew that I could only stay away from him for so long. It wasn't even a matter of choice, I felt this pull, this animalistic urge to be close to Paul.

Looking over at him from my spot on the bed, I had never felt more intimidated in my life. I knew that he would judge me and I knew that he was going to claim that he did all of this for my benefit; but I wasn't really benefiting, now was I?

I open my mouth to speak before closing it, I do that again, and take in a deep breath when Paul squeezes my hand, "Speak."

I blush, nodding, "I just...I don't know, this hard for me to say. I need you to know that I lacked in self confidence before I met you, and that it was very difficult for me to like myself."

Paul nods, "I'll keep that in mind."

"You made my life hell, Paul," I begin. "It's bad enough that I had a hard time at school before you...but you made all of it worse. It's even more sickening because the people who tormented me before, they didn't know the full extent of the damages, but you did, you do, and you still pulled that shit with me."

I get off the bed, putting some necessary distance between the two of us. Paul gets up as well, standing on the other side of the mattress. I feel my anger burning in my gut, the disgust on my tongue and I want to really lay into him, condemn him for how he has sinned against me.

"You showed no mercy the entire time either, not even when I endured two mother fucking panic attacks! Anxiety like that is not something I was or am familiar with! Do you know it feels like? I thought I was going to die when they happened! It felt like I couldn't breathe, Paul!

"The panic attacks weren't even the scariest part of those few months, though, or the worst. I found some peace when you stayed away from me for that little stretch of time; I found a real friend! Eli was so nice to me and he listened and damn it, he liked me for who I was, Paul!"

My tears blur my vision and I clench my eyes shut, willing them away.

"He _liked_ me, Paul, just the way I was. He liked _me_ -"

"He didn't have the right!" Paul bellowed. "You are mine and he was looking at you like you were his! You're mine, when the fuck will you understand that, Swan!"

His violent outburst shocks me and I spew fire, "I'll never understand it because I'll never be yours!"

He is right in front of me now, chest heaving.

I decide to twist the blade a little more.

"Eli kissed me, Paul," I said, a snarl curling at my lip. "Pressed me up against me up against the wall..."

A growl rips through Paul he backs me up against my bedroom door. His two arms on either side of my head contain me and his chest brushes against mine.

"I liked it." No, I didn't.

Paul's fist hits the wall beside my head.

I wasn't scared of him; Paul may be angry but he'd never harm me physically, I knew that.

"His lips were soft." They were chapped, from what I can remember.

"Shut. Up." Paul growls through clenched teeth.

"Softer than yours."

"Shut the fuck up, Swan!"

I go silent and for a while all I can hear is my own heart beat in my ears. I didn't know why I was playing such a dangerous game with Paul. I wanted to hurt him and this was the only way how. I was throwing the one thing Paul liked about our bond in his face.

Telling him it didn't fucking matter.

"You like my lips on yours, Swan," Paul whispers huskily in my ear. "I know you do because your heart beat gets faster and I can _smell_ you. I know you get all wet for me when I'm close enough; your panties were drenched that night I took you out."

I whimper, the sound helpless.

I was a fool to try and play.

"Take it back."

I shake my head.

"Take it back, Swan."

"Fuck you."

"Not until you take it back."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

"No."

"I'll make you."

"I'd like to see you try."

Paul chuckles darkly, running the tip of his nose across my temple, down my cheek, "It's not too late. One last chance, babe."

My heart thuds.

I can't breathe properly let alone make a decision when he is this close.

The mood between is playful but could turn volatile at any moment.

I could feel it in my bones.

I tremble and Paul smirks.

I feel his hot breath on my lips.

My lungs shrink.

Breathing is a little bit harder right now.

His lips press to mine firmly and my mouth falls open. He groans and crushes me against him, wrapping a toned arm around my waist. My hand climbs up his hot chest and into his hair, grabbing a fistful to hold on to. His teeth scrape against my bottom lip and I press closer, laying a hand on his chest. I pull back and his teeth sink into my lower lip, as if to remind me who is in control.

His lips crash against mine.

He kisses me hard.

Teeth clicking.

Tongues dueling.

Lips bruising.

I groan when I feel Paul's hands on my hips and I swear he is setting me on fire. My nipples are hard enough to burst through my bra and I am pretty sure there is a hot spring is between my legs.

"Are you wet for me?" Paul whispers against my lips huskily, brutally thrusting his hips against mine.

"Are you hard for me?" I counter, rolling my hips against his.

Paul groan-growls and shoves his hands into my hair, tugging at it to angle my head so he can kiss me deeper.

This had stopped being about taking it back; we were communicating everything that we felt over the past few months. We were punishing each other with our sharp bites and harsh lips. It was unhealthy and wrong but it felt so fucking good.

It was basic and primal.

I dig my nails in, dragging them down his chest, "I hope it leaves a mark."

Paul laughs before tugging at my hair hard, arching my neck so that he had all access. He drags his teeth across the length of it, stopping at the base to suck and bite, "I hope Eli sees this."

A snarl curls my lip and I yank his head away from my throat, "Why do you ruin everything with that mouth of yours?"

"I could say the same for yours." Paul snaps.

I silence him, slamming my mouth against his. He grinds against me, pressing his hardened length against my hot core through my sweats. I moan into his mouth, pressing my hips against his, rolling them to a beat I can't hear.

I know it is wrong to be kissing Paul.

He had hurt me.

Played me for a fool.

He is going to hurt me.

Make me into a fool again.

But if you can't be them, you join them, right?

My brain was telling me to push him away but my body was clinging to his form and my heart was somewhere caught in between.

I didn't understand why we did this to each other. We both didn't want what the other had to offer, yet we collided time and time again. It was as though we couldn't help ourselves, we just kept on coming back for more.

I feel his hot hand climb its way up my waist so that it is just under the swell of my breast. I chuckle darkly into his mouth, placing my hand over his, guiding it downwards ,whispering, "I don't think so, Paul; what kind of girl do you take me for?"

He pulls away, kissing his way up my jaw, nibbling on the corner of it, "You're a tease."

I feel all hot under his lips, under his hands, and I bite on my lower lip, "I am not a tease. You just don't like that I'm not giving you what you want."

Paul grinds into me hard, grabbing the juncture of my leg and drawing it up to his hip, "Keep it there."

We both pant out sounds of approval at this new angle and our lips meet again.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Somewhere along the line the kisses lose their sense of urgency, their need to punish, and I draw away from him. Paul presses his forehead to mine, releasing my leg so that it can return to its normal position.

"What are we doing?" I whisper, staring into his dark eyes.

He sounds so pained. "I don't know...I can't fight it, Swan...I need to be close to you and fuck I just can't control it."

It was in this moment I felt sorry for Paul. He was forced into wanting something his mind didn't. At the end of the day, Paul and I were in the same boat.

My hand cups his jaw, "I'm sorry."

Paul's eyes widen, "Why are you apologizing?"

"Because...I know how you feel," I murmur. "I can't fight it either, Paul. No matter how mean you are...I just come back for more."

"What are we going to do?" He asks, softly brushing away a tear that escaped from my eye.

I close my eyes and lean against him, hugging him tightly. He wraps his arms around me, playing with the ends of my long hair.

We were both helpless to it.

I swallow around the lump in my throat, "Do you think this would be easier if I wasn't, as you put it, _fat_?"

Paul sighs heavily. "I want to be mean and say yes, but I just don't like the idea of the Imprint, period. It's not all about the attraction, Bella."

I lean back, looking into his eyes, "What don't you like about the Imprint?"

"It makes me weak." Paul growls. "Needing something, needing someone. I look at Sam and Jared and they weren't as strong as they were before."

"How so?"

"They're all sensitive and shit, unwilling to fight."

"I don't think that makes them weak." I mumble into his chest. "They are fighting, just not how you want them to."

Paul lets out a growl, "You don't know shit about the Pack."

I roll my eyes, pulling away from him. "That may be true, Paul, but you're not weak just because you feel things, especially not love."

Paul just rolls his eyes at me in return and snaps, "Whatever."

I close my eyes before opening them again, "I am going to ask you a question and I want you to answer honestly."

Paul faces me, a single brow arching.

"Do you truly regret what you did to me? The pain you put me through? How you made me feel like I was losing my mind?"

"To some extent yes, but it made you stronger. When I first met you, you couldn't say two words to me without falling apart, now look - you can actually fight me."

"Made me stronger?" I yell shrilly. "Oh, gee, congratu-fucking-lations! You put me through hell for your own benefit!"

"No!" He roared. "It was for your benefit! You would not be able to survive in my world one second if you didn't have a back bone! You were pathetic, Bella! You were so insecure you could barely function!"

"Look at me now!" I shout. "You call _this_ functioning, Paul? I call this just getting by! It's all I can do not to pack my shit and leave!"

"Don't you dare try to leave me!" Paul clenches his jaw. "I will find you, Swan, there's no escaping this!"

"Hah!" I cry. "Big threats coming from the kid who can't leave La Push! You think Sam would let you leave, Paul?"

"Only to drag you back here!"

I am trembling with my anger as I shout, "I hate you!"

"Hate me all you want, Swan," Paul growls, grasping my jaw in his large palm. "But you're mine."

I wrench myself away, "Don't touch me."

"You didn't seem to mind before," He teases. "You liked it."

My chest heaves and I turn away from him, "Oh my god, oh my god..."

The tears trickle down from my eyes and I am gasping as I try to pull in air. I could feel the panic rushing through me, filling my lungs as I tried to calm down. This was all too much for me. My reality was setting in and I didn't like it: I was going to be stuck here with him for the rest of my fucking life. I feel the sweat on my brow and my heart is slamming against my chest. Nausea rolls through my and I bolt for the bathroom. I end up crumpling around the toilet, hugging it as I hurl into it.

I wipe my lips with a groan, before arching up again to empty the contents of my stomach.

"Jesus," Paul mutters from what can only be the doorway of my bathroom. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He grumbles as he pulls back my hair and I shudder, my gut churning, "Go away."

"You shouldn't have drank so much."

My stomach turns inside out and I heave again, "Shut the fuck up."

I hug the porcelain bowl and Paul rubs my back gently, "Done?"

I nod, spitting into the toilet as I reach up and flush it.

"Where's your tylenol?"

"Cabinet. Top shelf."

I watch as his brilliant muscles ripple and stretch under his black shirt and I lower my gaze when Paul turns around, popping out two into his palm.

"Cups?"

"Kitchen."

He disappears for a few moments and I get up splashing water across my hot face. I brush my teeth, trying to scrub out the taste of my regurgitated beer. I am just rinsing when Paul returns with a tall glass of water. He hands it over to me along with the pills and I shove them in my mouth, taking a quick sip of water.

I swallow the pills, chugging the rest of the water down.

I close my eyes, leaning back against the cool sink.

"I can't keep on doing this," I mutter weakly, feeling the tears pressing against my eyes. "I can't anymore, Paul. I can't handle another round."

"Round of what?"

"Of this!" My voice is thick. "I can't handle being pulled in only to be pushed away! Or called fat! Or yelled at or...or..."

He remains silent and my voice tapers off.

"But you don't care though, do you?"

His eyes meet mine, "No, I don't."

I feel my chest tighten.

It was obvious.

Paul didn't care.

He never would.

We'd be stuck like this forever.

Chained together and unable to break the steel that bound.

"Did you even mean what you said that day in class?"

"What will my answer get me?"

I bite on my lower lip to hold it in.

It feels like someone punched a whole through my chest.

My blood runs cold in my veins.

"That's what everything is to you: a game and you'll do just about anything to win."

Paul slowly claps his hands, mockingly, "Finally, she's catching on."

Rage floods through me, "Bull shit!"

"Excuse me?"

"Bull _shit_!" I say again, narrowing my eyes. "You are a liar, Paul! You...you liked what we did out there! You told me you thought I was beautiful and you meant it! You meant every word you said that day! You're just afraid of the fact that you like me; that you actually feel -"

"You don't know shit about me." Paul snaps. "How do you know that I meant it, huh? What if I was just saying it? What if I said it so I could get a little physical gratification?"

"Because the boy I knew for three weeks would never do that." I whisper.

Paul snorts, "I'm sick of this, I don't need it or you."

He begins to back away and I follow him, hot on his heels.

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?"

He ignores me and I let out an aggravated huff as we both thump down the steps.

His hand is on the door knob when I ask, "What is stopping you from liking me and not being ashamed of it?"

Paul stiffens and then he lets me have it as he spins around, "You really wanna know?"

I simply stare at him, passively and wait for the words that I know aim to hurt.

"I shouldn't want you!" Paul seethes, snarling. "I shouldn't like you because you're everything I _don't _want! You are weak and pathetic and fucking needy! I just can't believe I got fucking stuck with _you_: a shit for brains fat chick that eats her emotions!"

My lower lip trembles and the tears rise up, spilling over as I howl, "You bas-t-tard!"

"Oh my fucking Christ," Paul rages. "You asked the question and you're hurt when you get the answer you don't like!"

"I may be a lot of things," I begin. "But I am not _that_ girl! And I am done being the girl who lets douche-bags like you drag her through the mud in the vain hope that'll be different next time!"

Paul stares at me like I am the gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe before turning away and leaving.

I flinch with the slam of the door and a tortured sob bursts from my lips.

I felt so dirty, so unclean in light of what he had said.

I let out an anguished sound and in the distance I swear I hear a howl.

I let the tears fall as I stare at the door, wishing I could undo everything that had transpired between us.

I sniffle and blink away the tears, climb the stairs and enter into the bathroom. I turn the water to a scalding heat and rip my clothes away from my body as I try not to fall apart. The tub fills quickly and I lower myself into it, ignoring the pain and salty tears that drip from my eyes.

I sob as try to scrub away where his hands had been.

But I still feel them.

So I cry some more.

My skin turns a nasty pink.

But I kind of like it.

It takes the pain away.

Makes me feel something I understand.

**P ~ B**

Monday rolls around and I look like death warmed over and feel like it too. My entire weekend was spent trying to flush Paul out of my system. No matter how hard I tried he was there; in my thoughts, in my mind, anywhere I looked I saw Paul. It pissed me off to no end.

I don't even know why I had the hope that Paul would even be able to listen to me, never mind understand. I was a fool to even try explain what was going on inside to him. It's not like he cared, anyway, right?

My mother came home on Sunday night and didn't say anything when she saw my blotched face. My Dad didn't ask either, in case you wanted to know. I wondered why they even had me. I mean, what the hell was the point? It's not like they enjoyed having me around, I think, in there eyes, I was just another furnishing, another thing expected of them.

"Swan!" I hear, and I turn to see who calls upon me as I close my locker. I see Leah walking over to me, a grin on her face.

"Hey," She says when she gets to me, tucking some hair behind her ears. "Where'd you go on Friday? You just bailed."

"I couldn't find you," I say, staring over her shoulder at Paul who was leaning on the wall, watching me. "Paul drove me home."

"Oh," She says, a blush staining her cheeks. "Sorry, um, me and Caleb went on a walk."

I smirk at her, "Just a walk?"

Leah giggles, "One of the best walks I've ever been on."

"I'm sure it was," I notice that Paul is gone and my thudding heart relaxes. "But thanks, again, for you know, taking me out."

"No problem," Leah smiles. "Wanna walk to class together?"

I am kind of taken back by her and just how nice she's being to me. Kindness was not something I was familiar with and it must have showed on my face as I asked, "Why?"

Leah shrugs, a frown puckering her brow, "Why not?"

"I don't want to sound weird or anything, but why are talking to me? Being nice? I thought you were just doing me a favor on Friday."

"Why shouldn't I wanna chill with you? You seemed cool drunk, so I mean, you gotta be cool while you're sober?"

I simply stare at her and she laughs, "Come one, Swan, we have classes to get to."

And just like that Leah Clearwater became my friend.

We had been 'chilling out' as Leah had put it for about a month now and I was more than grateful for her presence. She provided the perfect distraction from Paul. That's not to say that I didn't notice him.

Or cry over him and his cruel words.

Or stare at him.

Or plot his slow death.

Kidding.

**P ~ B**

I knew that Leah knew something was up with Paul, and that thought was only confirmed today at lunch. I was sitting in the cafeteria when Paul walked by our table and Leah watched him with me.

"Okay," She says, licking the pudding off her spoon. "What's the story there? Every time we see him you either look like you want to rip his balls off or like you're going to burst into tears."

"Nothing." Is my quick answer.

"Bella," Leah whines, dragging out my name. "Come on, I'm your friend, and secrets don't keep friends."

She's only teasing (I'm now used to her directness).

But I also know that she actually wants an answer.

"It's hard to explain."

"Aren't all relationships?" She smiles, scooping up some more pudding.

"We never really had a relationship," I sigh, pushing my plate away. "I don't know, he showed interest but he was just playing with my feelings. He's complicated and confusing."

"Did he hurt you, dude?" Leah's eyes narrow.

"Let's just say the last time I saw him he called me a 'shit for brains fat chick that ate her emotions'".

"No way!"

"Yeah." The lump at my throat swells.

"What a dick!" Leah exclaims.

This is what I liked about Leah.

She was simple and straight forward.

She demanded answers but knew when to stop digging.

I wasn't used to her friendship but I liked having her around.

She made me laugh and gave me less time to cry over Paul because she was always dragging me somewhere. She told me I needed to let loose and make this year count.

I was beginning to agree with her.

Except one person was holding me back.

(Stop your eyes, I know they're rolling) Paul.

He made me so angry.

I didn't understand how he could be so focused on how this affected _him_.

Everything was about him.

How he felt.

How this wasn't what he wanted.

What the fuck about me?

What about how I was stuck with him?

What about the fact that I was still drawn to him?

What about the fact that my life was tied to his wagon?

_What about me?_

I wanted shout all this at him, scream in his face. But I couldn't because that would mean giving him the satisfaction of knowing he bothered me. I didn't know how we were going to carry this out. I mean, we couldn't go around ignoring each other forever, now could we? The way Paul had described the Imprint to me that day at his house implied that we relied on each other. That obviously meant that we couldn't go on for much longer.

But I was so hurt.

So angry.

So done with it all.

**P ~ B**

"So where are we going again?" I ask with a smirk, just to tease her. I clip my bangs back, looking in the mirror.

"To Caleb's," Leah smiles, watching me through the mirror from my bed. "It's going to be a blow out! I am so excited for this party."

I knew she was. Leah had been talking about this party for just about two weeks now, ever since Caleb invited her. She was vibrating with excitement that day, talking about how sweet Caleb was. I had to stop myself from gagging; Leah was head over heels.

"How do I look?"

"Like one sexy mama!" Leah sings, getting up from my bed.

Leah had done my makeup and hair, claiming that all the guys would be all over me. I rolled my eyes at that comment when she said it. She told me it was a way to get over Paul, to get him out of my head.

I hoped it worked.

Paul had gone back to observing me quietly and his silence hurt me. I don't know why but this seemed so much more worse than the other times he had lashed out. Almost always, in the past, Paul would return with an apology, explaining how he didn't mean it. Now, though, he had yet to even attempt to apologize, leading me to believe he truly meant every single word he said.

I couldn't seem to get rid of him. My whole body seemed to ache with my heart, as if it missed him. I wondered if it had anything to do with the Imprint bond...

The worst part was that I was still so torn up over everything.

I still cried over the cracks, hoping to seal them.

I still could hear his poisonous words.

I could still feel the whole he punched through my chest.

And it only seemed to get bigger with each passing day.

With each tear that fell.

With each sob that escaped.

I tried to put on a brave face for Leah.

She thought I was really done with him.

Lord knows she wanted me to be.

She reminded me on a regular basis of what a tool Paul was and how he didn't deserve me if he couldn't see me for who I was: a beautiful woman. (Leah's words not mine).

Leah draws me back into the present, "Are you thinking about Paul again?"

"What?" I scoff. "No."

She gives me a disbelieving look, "Yeah, okay."

I shake my head at her and say, "Let's go, I'm sure Caleb is wondering where you are."

"You think so?" Leah blushes.

I chuckle, "I think so."

With the necessary motivation Leah is out the door and we are in my truck on the way over to Caleb's. We pull up to the house that is positively shaking with the music that I can already hear. Leah wiggles in her seat and turns to me when I stop the car, "Do I look okay?"

I smile at her, "You look like one sexy mama!"

Leah laughs and says, "Okay, Swan, let's do this!"

I wasn't going to be drinking tonight, I still remember the effects of my last night out. I don't wish to revisit how to worship the porcelain god. I follow Leah in through the crowd and as soon as we walk in through the door I know that Paul is here.

My body gets goose bumps all over and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I look around trying to find him but my eyes don't turn up any results. Leah turns to me, shouting, "Let me know if you see Caleb!"

I nod my head and try to ignore the writhing bodies around me as we cut across the living room-dance floor. I observe my peers who appear to have no shame. Kids are on top of each other, grinding or making out, practically doing the deed on the dance floor. There are rooms people, I think as we past a couple who are playing a game of intense tonsil hockey.

We make it into the kitchen and see Caleb in the middle of it, surrounded by a group of guys.

"I see him!" Leah smiles and it only grows wider when Caleb leaves his audience to pull her into a tight hug.

Leah smiles at me from older his shoulder and I giver her a thumbs up.

Leah sticks close to Caleb and I try find a place to sit down. The only reason I came out with Leah tonight was because she wanted to see Caleb. Leah was a good friend, but once a boy came into play, she had tunnel vision. I figured that I would just wait until she was done and then give her a ride home.

The party is in full swing and I am leaning against the wall, waiting on Leah when I finally find Paul. He is standing off to the side with a few of the guys from the Pack and their respective partners. My heart thumps off time at the sight of him and the whole in my chest flares with pain. I know it shouldn't. I know that I shouldn't miss him but damn it, I did. My toes fidgeted in my shoes, trying to drag me forward but I refused to move. I shouldn't be feeling this way.

A thirst for something spreads throughout my body and I am absolutely horrified, knowing what it craves. This had everything to do with the bond and there was nothing I could do about it. I gasp as a wave of the yearning rolls through me and clutch to my bag. I wondered if Paul was feeling this too.

I feel weak and my stomach clenches violently as I leave the wall, in search of Leah. I find her with Caleb in the kitchen and I quietly explain that I wasn't feeling well and gave her money for a cab.

I am making my way through the crowd when I look back to see Paul staring at me. For a moment the whole world falls away and it's just Paul and I. I hear my heart beat in my ears as I look into those dark orbs. A single tear rolls down my cheek and I see Paul take a sharp breath as I break eye contact.

I burst from Caleb's house, shoving past my peers. I get the sensation that I am being followed and just about die when I see Paul exiting the house, eyes set on me. I move a little bit faster, and in my hurry I slam right into some girl. Her beer splashes all over me and her own shirt and I curse, "Shit!"

"I'm so sorry," I ramble. "I'll pay for the dry cleaning."

"This can't be dry cleaned!" She snaps, scrubbing at her top.

"I'm sorry, just, uh, find me at school and we can work something out."

I don't wait for her answer, I just push past her, looking over my shoulder. Paul is nowhere in sight and I breathe a sigh of relief.

I make it to my car without further incidence and let out a shriek when I see Paul leaning on my truck.

"Avoiding me?"

"Yes."

Paul clicks his tongue, "That's not very nice."

It feels like we've reverted back to those earlier months when Paul was only my tormentor.

"What do you want?" I ask tiredly, fishing around in my bag for my keys.

"I..."

"What, Paul?"

"I want to talk."

"Hah!" I shout. "You want to talk _now_? Well, I'm not going to listen. I'm done listening to you."

I move to unlock my car and my body practically hums in happiness at our proximity. The thirst flares within, though, demanding for release. I wince and Paul does too.

"It's what happens when we're apart for too long." Paul mumbles.

I remain quite and am beginning to pull my door open when Paul closes it, putting his hand over the door.

"Why won't you listen?"

"Because there is _nothing_," I say around the lump in my throat. "That you could ever say to make me forgive you."

**P ~ B**

I am in the school library a few days later when Sam Uley approaches me. The only reason I was on my own was because Leah was on a family vacation. Sam sits down in the seat across the desk from me and looks at me with a serious gaze. I want to yell at him, scream my questions as to why he didn't intervene. I was too scared though. I was intimidated enough by the fact that he was here.

"You're all he thinks about, you know." Sam says.

I don't look up from my Law textbook. "I doubt that."

"You shouldn't," Sam insists and I almost believe him. "It's a fact."

I look up this time, "And just how do you know what he is thinking?"

"When an individual Phases, their mind is no longer their own. It's a sort of Pack-mind whenever two or more wolves are together."

"Why should I believe you?"

He looks confused and I immediately sense he's not used to people mistrusting him.

"Why shouldn't you?" Sam counters.

"Because I don't trust you. You did nothing to help me. You let him do what he did."

"I did intervene at one point, I ordered him to stay away from you for that month."

"Gee, thanks, it made all the difference." I snap bitterly, slamming my textbook closed.

Sam sighs, folding his arms over the table, "I know I should have done more, but I didn't know what exactly to do. I had never seen an Imprint go so badly. The purpose of Imprinting is to bring people together, not tear them apart."

I just stare at him.

What did he expect me to say?

"Well, clearly you were underprepared." I snap.

Sam clenches his jaw, "The past is the past. All I can do is try for a better future."

We are silent for a few moments and I cradle my head in my hands as I whisper brokenly, "I can't even look at him without feeling sick."

Sam sighs. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your doing. Its Paul's."

"He's my responsibility, though."

"Do you always take on the blame for everything?" I joke weakly.

Sam smirks, "It's what I do. I am Alpha. The Pack is my responsibility."

I nod and the silence stretches before us once more.

"I can't stay away though," I confess. "I am feeling worse and worse with each day that passes. I feel jittery and I always feel tired. It's like I can't even function without him."

"That's what happens when a mated pair are separated for too long." Sam supplies.

I nod my heavy head and close my eyes for a moment or two.

"What will happen if I stay away?"

"You'll get worse. You two will break though, at some point."

"Not me."

"I know." Sam says. "But if you two don't get your shit together soon I _will_ intervene. I will force you two to sort this out."

I chuckle mirthlessly, "You can't control me like you do them."

"You'd be surprised," Sam chuckles. "You're apart of the Pack now."

I narrow my eyes, hissing, "I am not in that fucked up group of yours."

Sam's eye brows shoot up into his hair. "Excuse me?"

"Your group is an accident waiting to happen. You all think you know each other, but it is clear that you don't. Sure you may know each other's history and the day-to-day surface value shit, but do you all _really_ know each other? You all feel like a group because you have to. You're programmed to. But at the end of the day, that isn't all that comforting if you ask me."

Sam takes a deep breath, "You're angry, I see that I shouldn't have come to talk to you."

"Piss off," I huff angrily. "It's not about me being angry and taking it out on you. It's about the fact that all you people _assume_ things. Kim and Emily _assumed_ that a simple explanation would make everything okay. You _assume_ that I am willing to do things for Paul. Paul _assumes_ that I will forgive him all the time."

"I'm sorry that you feel this way." Sam says, looking shocked.

"I don't need your apology." I grab my books and begin to shove things in my bag.

I am shrugging my bag over my shoulder and Sam is still here, looking contemplative.

"Before I leave, you need to know that Paul has reasons for hating the Imprint bond."

"Other than the fact that he has Imprinted on a beached whale?" I snap bitterly.

"He's scared." Sam says. "He doesn't understand what he's feeling. He doesn't know what to do with you. He doesn't know what he should do or how to handle any of it. So he gets angry and he lashes out on the person closest to him in more ways than one, you."

I let out a mirthless laugh. "I am scared. I don't know what to do. But, fuck, I don't..."

"You don't what?"

Standing there before Sam I knew, right here in this instant, that it wasn't all on Paul. I carried just a little bit of the weight here. I knew that he started all but I fight back and egg him on and try to hurt him every way I can. I'm no better than him, when I really think about.

"Never mind," I breathe in shakily.

Sam nods and begins to back away, leaving me there on my own. I feel rattled by the realization that I sit on Paul's level and leave the library in a sort of haze. I am at my locker when Emily skids to a stop in front of me.

"Paul," She pants. "You gotta stop him, he's fighting Sam."

"What?"

"He's fighting Sam, he's gone crazy, you have to stop him, Bella."

"I won't be able to." I frown at her. "I'm nobody's keeper."

"I know he fucked you over, I know he messed with you, but if Paul revolts like this -"

I close my locker, "Where is he?"

I didn't know why I kept on doing this to myself. I don't know why I was even agreeing to help, but there was this need inside, this desperate urge that I couldn't resist. I didn't owe him anything, but I knew that if he got angry enough he would Phase and put the Pack at risk.

She leads me to the school parking lot, where Sam and Paul are circling each other. It's late after school and only a few students are present. The Pack blocks the view, surrounding Paul and Sam. I walk closer, Emily at my side as I push into the circle.

"You had no right!" Paul roars at Sam.

He looks fierce in his anger, darkly beautiful and something flares inside me.

I edge closer to the action and flinch when Paul tackles Sam to the ground.

"Bella," Emily whispers urgently. "Do something."

I take in a deep breath and whisper, "Paul."

He freezes for a second and just like that Sam rolls him over, landing a punch to the jaw.

Anger runs through me and I yell, "Get off of him!"

They both ignore me and Paul growls as he flips Sam off of him. Paul straddles Sam's waist and I see the tremors rippling through him as he raises his fist and strikes Sam.

"Paul!" I shout, stepping towards him.

He ignores me, landing another punch.

I run over and grab his arm, shoving him off of Sam as I order, "Stop it!"

Paul resists but gets off Sam, his chest heaving as he, growls, "You had no fucking right."

I am leading Paul away when Sam shouts, "You're done, Paul. You're out."

We make it to my truck and Paul gets in still trembling. I turn to him from the driver's seat and grasp his head in my hands, "Look at me."

His eyes meet mine and he is panting, 'sorry', over and over again. I had never seem him so undone before and I knew I had to help him. Somewhere deep down I knew that Paul needed me right now and even though he had hurt me, it was time for one of us to be the bigger person.

"Calm down." I breathe, softly brushing my thumbs along his temples back and forth.

He closes his eyes and once he's gotten his breathing under control I pull away, starting the car. We pass by the Pack as we pull out of the parking lot and they watch us go. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, knowing something big had just happened.

Paul is just as quiet as I am on the ride to my house and we pull into the driveway just as silent. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, seeing him cradle his head in his hands. I place my hand on his back and whisper, "What just happened back there?"

"I've gone rogue."

"What?"

"I'm not apart of the Pack anymore."

"Why? Why would you do that to yourself?" I demand.

"I...I was angry and he overstepped, he approached you and told you how I felt."

"Fuck, Paul!" I shout, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut. "You can't do this anymore! You can't just get angry and act out like that! You've got to start thinking!"

Paul follows me up the steps and into my house, "It wasn't fair, he told you things that were private."

"He was trying to help you, Paul." I turn to face him once we're inside.

It's so hard to be this close to him.

"He was trying to explain why you hurt me and said what you said."

"It wasn't his place."

I sigh and say, "Fine. It wasn't his place. But did you really have to attack him?"

Paul just grunts and mutters, "No."

I slump down onto the couch and draw my knees up, hugging them to my chest. Paul sits down next to me and I shudder as pain rips through me. We had been apart for two months now and the whole in my chest throbbed in agony with each beat of my heart. I feel Paul shudder beside me, his arm bumping into mine.

"Can you feel it?" He asks huskily.

I clench my eyes shut, "Yes."

We remain sitting there.

So close but so far away.

Able to help each other.

But so unwilling to.

**A/N: So...**

**What do you think of Paul going rogue? **

**Think he deserved to be kicked out of the Pack?**

**Leah and Bella's friendship? Like it? **

**What do you think of Bella now? **

**What did you think of their fight (at the beginning)?**

**What do you think of Paul now?**

**Worth the wait?**

**Thanks for reading, as always. **

**Playlist:**

**Tape Song - The Kills**

**Last Day of Magic - The Kills**

**Cheap and Cheerful - The Kills**

**Wicker Chair - Kings of Leon**

**Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons**

**Cosmic Love - Florence & The Machine**

**Until next time readers!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: It's late. I'm sorry. **

**I know it's frustrating. I want you all to know I am not doing this on purpose; life just keeps getting in the way. Believe me - I write when I can and use every chance that comes along. Thanks for sticking with me thus far!**

**I hope you enjoy it. **

**R&R**

**I don't own, I just play with S.M's characters. **

**Chapter 11: Pumped Up Kicks**

The silence between us was tense.

Suffocating almost.

I kept my eyes clenched closed.

So I wouldn't have to look at him.

With those eyes.

Changing whenever he needed them to.

Pulling me in and shutting me out.

I felt so tired.

So exhausted.

I let out a sigh.

But it doesn't get rid of the tightness I feel in my chest.

Doesn't move the sadness from my heart.

Doesn't make me feel better.

"We can't do this anymore."

My words.

But not my voice.

It should have been mine.

I've said the phrase enough for the both of us.

Or something to the same effect.

It's his mouth.

Our words.

Tears come easy.

Rising up.

Leaking out from the corners of my eyes.

Trailing down my cheeks.

I wasn't crying for myself.

But for us.

For what we had done.

"Bella." He says.

Not Swan.

I open my eyes.

"Yeah?" I sniffle, wiping at my eyes uselessly.

"Look at me."

I didn't think I could. I wouldn't be able to handle it; I'd fall apart and I think he knew that. I was at the end of my rope; all frayed edges and flimsy thread. My lip trembles as I turn to face him and I sharply take in a breath when I meet his eyes. They were so dark; so barren.

It was the first time I had looked at Paul since our last encounter; I mean really looked at him. There were dark shadows under his eyes, a dusting of hair covering his cheeks, his hair messier than usual.

His eyes were what got me.

The looked like the way they did when he told me what was going on.

Completely and utterly defeated and remorseful.

"I am willing to stop this if you are." He murmurs.

"Stop what?" My voice is hoarse, scratchy as it escapes my throat.

"All of it. I am willing to finally face this."

I slowly look away from him, nodding my head.

There was a spark of rebellion within.

A little flicker of will.

But I knew that he was right: we couldn't do this anymore.

We couldn't keep going in circles; the cycle had to be broken. If that meant finally manning up and facing all our issues than so be it. I was too tired to fight him anyway, and even if I did fight him; where would it get me? Alone and even more hopeless.

"Bella?"

I nod my head. "Okay."

"Okay?" He echos.

"Okay." I repeat, looking him in the eye.

"Wanna shake on it?" Paul smirks but it is lacking in its usual mirth.

I shake my head at him, offering him my left hand.

He engulfs it with his large one and doesn't let go after a few minutes, instead he laces his fingers through mine.

"Do I want to know how many tears you wasted on me?" He asks, reaching over with his fear hand to wipe away the one I didn't know had escaped.

"Who said they were for you?" I tease playfully.

Paul chuckles. "Glad you still got your sense of humor."

We fall back into silence.

His hand in mine isn't as comforting as it should be.

I had been waiting for this.

Waiting for him to open his eyes.

Why wasn't I happy?

I had him right where I wanted.

Weak.

Remorseful.

Ready for a truce.

I felt even worse.

Because it was too late.

Too late to apologize.

Too late to hold my hand.

Too late to ask about my tears.

Too.

Late.

We both were.

We had done so much damage.

Between the two of us was a world of destruction.

I had hurt him.

He had hurt me.

We were even, right?

So why didn't it feel that way?

I felt like I was out of my body. Despondent; on autopilot and navigating a no flight zone. I knew that I needed to wake up and open my eyes to what was going on. Paul and I were starting over.

Was that even possible?

Could I forget?

Could I forgive?

My mother told me the words forgive and forget don't belong in the same sentence once. I wonder if that motto got her to where she is now: in a loveless marriage and a daughter she didn't know.

I feel Paul squeeze my hand gently, "You okay?"

I give a dry, mirthless laugh. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You don't have to do this, you know." Paul mumbles, drawing his hand out of mine.

It feels cold, limp, useless without his.

I shiver.

"Do what?"

"Give me another chance or this truce or whatever..."

"What else is there to do?" I say, cradling my head in my hands. "It's the truth: we can't go on like this. How can I refuse it?"

Paul just nods.

"I swear it'll be different this time. I'll try. It will be like when we were friends."

I look at him, "Will it?"

He doesn't meet my eyes for a moment or two.

When he does he says, "It will."

"How?"

"I am actually going to try."

I look away again.

"I don't know what to say to make you believe my words."

There's a loose thread hanging from the seam of my jeans.

I tug at it.

It holds firm.

Rooted in its spot.

I wrap it around my finger and yank.

It breaks away.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"What do you want me to say, Paul?"

"I don't know. Scream. Yell. Tell me you don't believe me. Something," He pleads. "Anything."

"I'm not up to fighting you these days; I've learned it's best not to."

"I like it when you fight me. You're the only one that does."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

I am silent for a few moments, trying to gather my thoughts.

"Why don't you like the imprint?"

"I've told you already - "

"The real reason, Paul." I cut in, my eyes shooting to his.

Paul plays with his fingers. "So Sam left some parts out, then?"

"He just told me that you were scared and didn't know what to do."

Paul chuckles darkly, a sneer at his lip, "He would."

I simply stare at him, "So he left something out?"

"Yeah," Paul sighs. "I hate the Imprint because it ruined my life."

"Oh, for fuck's sake - " I begin but am cut off.

"I'm not talking about our Imprint bond."

Confusion hits me and I frown, "Then who are you talking about?"

"My parents. My Dad and my Mom fell in love when they were teenagers; high school sweethearts, married by the time they were nineteen. Happy ending, right?"

Paul stands up now, running a hand through his hair angrily.

"My Dad was a werewolf, my Mom knew it and still went ahead with marrying him, having me; making a life with him. She knew about the Imprint. She knew that he wasn't hers; that she wasn't his."

My heart thuds in my chest as I listen and I know there isn't a happy ending.

Dread churns in my gut when he speaks again.

"He Imprinted a year or so ago; left me and Ma. We were a family and just like that, all because of some fucking rigged system, we weren't anymore. He didn't even try. He just left us for her. Right after he left, I phased. That's why I hate the Imprint. It tore my life apart. And when I met you...when I Imprinted on you, I was just so angry because it was so unfair. I couldn't control anything and it was _my_ life; _my_ family..."

Paul's back was to me, trembling with his anger.

I slowly stand, walk over to him and lay my hand on his back.

He turns around to face me and he mumbles, "He just left me."

His eyes are so pained and my heart clenches for him. I wrap my arms around his waist, "I'm sorry."

He crushes me to him, gripping me tightly in a fierce hug. I tug my hands out from around his waist and wrap them around his neck instead. He tucks his face into the crook of my neck and my feet dangle off the ground.

I feel his warm breath on my neck as he murmurs. "I miss him."

I feel tears pressing at the back of my eyes as he holds me even tighter because I feel so much for him.

"I know," I whisper, running my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I know."

I knew that this didn't justify what Paul had done to me. But at least I understood why he was so angry, so ready for a fight. In this moment though, I knew that Paul needed me. I knew that despite his harsh words and sharp tongue that he needed someone to care.

I didn't dare to voice these opinions, instead I held Paul even tighter to me. I hold him for a long while before he loosens his hold and lets my feet rest on the ground again. His arms are still around me and mine still around him with my forehead pressed to his chest.

He lays a kiss on the crown of my head before murmuring, "Where are you parents?"

I stiffen and move to step out of his arms but he retains me quickly, "Swan?"

"They're not home. They never are." I mutter, uncomfortable with the subject.

"What do you mean?" He tilts my face up so he can see it.

"I mean they are never here." I snap.

I didn't want to talk about this. I didn't want to review the ins and outs of my silent home or how I barely spoke with my parents. I wasn't ready to reveal that not even my parents want me. That they probably find me insufferable as he does.

Paul's eye brows shoot up into his hairline. "Ouch, snippy, Swan. Do they always leave you alone?"

"Yeah." I mumble. "They ignore me. It's like I'm not even here."

"I'm sure it not like that - "

I give a grim laugh, "Oh, really? You're sure? Paul, after my anxiety attack my Mom went back to work right after and took a phone call right when I was about to tell her about what was freaking me out."

"What?" He growls and I feel the skin underneath his shirt begin to shake.

"Paul," I whisper, running my hands across his upper chest, "It's okay. I'm used to it."

"It's not okay." He grumbles.

I just shake my head and say, "People have it worse than I do."

He hugs me to him once more, playing with the ends of my hair, "You're stronger than I thought."

**P ~ B**

I knew it wasn't going to be easy, starting over that is. I knew that it was going to be a struggle at first, to get past all that had been said. But we really didn't have a choice. According to Paul we were a Pack of our own now, since he had been booted out of Camp Uley and it was natural for the both of us to be together constantly. The only thing I hoped for, moving ahead, was that we were able to stop fighting.

It was Monday and I was just locking up the house when I sensed him. I turned around to see him leaning on his black car, dressed in identical attire and looking all kinds of edible. My heart was missing; absent at the moment, because when I saw him I didn't feel much. Just a nervous clench in my gut and the strong urge to go back in the house.

I walk over to him, hand gripping the strap of my back pack and stop when I'm two feet away.

"What are you doing here?"

"Giving you a ride."

"I didn't ask for one."

"What can I say?" Paul drawls. "I'm generous."

I look into his eyes, getting sucked in. They were so brown, so rich and I felt my chest clench. I sighed and got into the car after Paul walked around to the driver's side. The mood in the car isn't much of anything; it isn't angry or tense but merely resigned and almost indifferent.

Paul fiddles with the radio, scanning the stations over and over again. The stop and start grates against my nerves and I abruptly knock his hand away when he moves to change it for the millionth time, "Both hands on the wheel."

"Ah, she speaks."

I roll my eyes and turn up the volume.

"Don't want to talk to me, Swan?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything."

"Okay, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are you planning on, uh, going back to Sam?"

His jaw clenches and a low growl rumbles through his chest. "No."

I nod my head. "I get it, Paul."

Paul just grips the wheel a little bit harder and turns into the school parking lot. I watch through the tinted windows as the students part for us; outlining our path. I study the Pack as we roll by and I swear they were willing the car to burst into flames with their eyes. Scowling I demand, "Who shat in their cornflakes?"

Paul lets out a guffaw, "They're pissed because I broke the status quo. The only people who have the right to be angry are Sam and Emily."

"Why Emily?"

"I attacked her mate. It's natural for her to be angry with me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's natural, but it doesn't mean I care."

I let out a low chuckle, "I never said you did."

We sit in silence for a few moments and I am about to get out of the car when Paul says, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For understanding."

I look over at Paul, "Don't thank me yet. We've got a lot of shit to work through."

With that I leave the car and ignore the feeling of his eyes on me. While I had accepted Paul's offer of starting over, it didn't mean that I had forgotten it all. I could still here all his words, whispering in my ear with every step I took. I wasn't going to punish Paul but I certainly wasn't going to reward him by rolling over and submitting. We both were going have to work on repairing any resemblance of a friendship between the two of us. Paul needed to know that it wouldn't come easy; that this was a joint effort.

I reach my locker and open it with rough, jerky movements. I felt so angry, it was an ugly growth forming in the pit of my stomach. I knew that I couldn't hold onto the emotion, I knew that I had given up hope on being angry last night when I told Paul we could restart. Frustration grips my insides and twists and I feel the strange urge to cry. I let out a slow, shuddering breath and nearly jump ten feet in the air when I turn to find Leah right next to me.

"Christ, Leah, you scared me!" I lay my hand over my hammering heart.

Leah chuckles, "You zone out way to often, dude."

I laugh weakly, "I've got a lot to think about."

Leah frowns, "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Something happen while I was away?"

"Kind of."

"What's 'kind of'?" Leah demands.

"Paul - "

"No." Leah cuts in. "Do not tell me you gave that bastard another chance."

I look down at my hands, picking at the skin around my thumb nail.

"_Oh_ _my_ _God_," Leah exclaims. "You did."

"You don't understand," I snap. "It's complicated."

"I know you haven't told me everything but, Bella, he was so mean to you. He was horrible. How can you let him do it again?"

"It's going to be different."

"Ha!" Leah sneers. "I bet it'll be. Maybe it'll take him longer to get around to fucking you up."

"Leah, please," I slam my locker shut. "I need you to just leave this, okay? Drop it. If you're my friend, like you claim to be, then you'll stand by me."

Leah pulls my into a hug, whispering, "Fine. But if he hurts you, I swear, I am going to chop off his balls."

I laugh, "I'll hold you to it."

**P ~ B**

Paul was waiting outside my class when it was time for lunch. I tense up when I see him, anxiety moving through me as I approach. I knew that things could potentially be awkward because of my last comment. I didn't regret saying it though, awkwardness be damned. I expected Paul to make some sort of snide comment, maybe even a jab, but when I closed the distance between us Paul greeted me with a small smile.

I am caught off guard and it must be obvious because Paul smirks and teases, "I told you it was going to be different."

I just nod and we make our way to the cafeteria but before we enter Paul pulls me off to the side, "If it would make you more comfortable, I can eat somewhere else, I mean not with you."

Despite my morose silence, a pang of hurt laced with shock shoots through my system and I speak, "I'm just quiet today, you're more than welcome to eat lunch with Leah and I."

Everything feels different now, it's like we're starting over but not at the same time. We've said we are going to, but it's clear we're both holding onto things, making this more difficult. I want to be able to let it all go, to honestly look into his eyes and not feel all the pain he's dealt.

Paul just nods and we're on our way again. We enter the cafeteria and immediately move for the line. I am just as quiet during the process of picking out my lunch and paying for it as I was earlier. We head over to the table and Leah greets Paul with a look that was meant to kill.

The table is awkward, tense and filled with words that want to be said. I want to tell Leah to lay off, to remember our conversation from this morning, but I don't bother because there is an epic stare down happening between her and Paul. I notice his hand curl into a fist and the skin trembles slightly. Rolling my eyes I put down my apple and lay my hand over his, "Chill out."

Leah watches this with a critical eye, "What's wrong with you?"

"What wrong with _you_?" Paul snaps back.

"Nice comeback, bud, real original." Leah retorts. "Tell me, Bella, what the hell do you see in this kid because it can't be his wit."

Paul clenches his jaw and before he can ream her a new asshole like I know he wants to, I speak up.

"Leave it, Leah," I warn. "Enough."

She looks at me like I've betrayed her and I mouth, "We talked about this."

She just nods and roughly stabs her fork through an unsuspecting french fry.

I release Paul's hand and pick up my apple, taking a huge chunk out of it. I am about to try and make conversation when Paul abruptly stands and says, "See you later, Swan."

I let out a deep sigh and cradle my head in my hands.

"I'm sorry, Bella." Leah says.

I just not my head. "I know."

We remain silent for a few moments and I lift my head when Leah says, "I didn't realize he was so...irritable. Why was he so pissed?"

"Ha," I snort. "You thought that was him pissed? That was calm."

"But seriously," Leah peels the seal of her pudding off. "What do you see in him?"

"There's more too him than what everyone sees at school. He's...he's different with me."

Leah sighs, "I'm worried about you. I mean, Bella, he isn't the nicest guy."

"You think I don't know that?" I snap at her. "Just back off, Leah, I get it - your heart is in the right place - but just leave it."

Leah looks shocked at my outburst and grab my bag, shrugging it onto my shoulder as I grab my lunch tray and get up.

"Where you going?"

"I have to talk to my teacher before class starts."

"Lunch isn't even halfway through yet, dude," Leah says. "I'm sorry if I pushed -"

"I know, Lee, I know your sorry. I'm not mad. I just need sometime to myself."

I walk away then and can help but feel a little disappointment. Things weren't going like I expected them to. I mean, I thought that Paul and I would never be able to start over, but now we were. I didn't know if I believed that we could even start over, but there wasn't much choice. It was to deny him and cause myself even more pain or to finally cave and see if we could repair the damage.

I moved through the rest of my classes that day slowly and painfully. The flocks faces mocked me, the hands never moving. It did little to help my wandering mind. I was physically there in the classes but my brain was anywhere but. I kept turning over the same thoughts; the same feelings of defeat.

By the time the final bell wrung I was feeling older than I was and more tired than ever. I was leaving the building when Leah jogged up alongside me and says in a rush, "I'm-sorry-that-I-pushed-you-and-I-promise-I'll-be - "

"Whoa," I stare at her, amazed that she said all that in one breath. "Relax, Leah, I know you were just trying to look out for me."

"I know," Leah sighs and comes to a stop and I do as well. "I just...you've been such a good friend to me and listened to me drone on and on about Caleb for who knows how long...and I know that I don't understand what is actually happening between you and Paul but..."

I pull her into a hug, tears filling my eyes and I want to know why that they are so ready to pour these days. She hugs me back and I whisper, "Lee, you're my best friend and I...I want you to know that I get it. I know that you're looking out for me."

She squeezes me tightly and I nearly die when a tear slips down my cheek, "Bella, what has he done to you? Why are you falling apart? You were fine until he showed up again."

I sniffle and pull back, my voice cracking as I speak, "I don't know what's going on anymore. I can't help any of this...I'm barely holding on."

"Why?" She whispers back, her eyes wide.

"He hurt me so much, Leah," My voice is thick. "And I don't know what to do...he's asked for a second chance and I gave it to him."

"Why didn't you just turn him down?" She asks, frowning.

I close my eyes and run a hand through it roughly, "I couldn't. I just couldn't."

She's about to say something else when I sense Paul. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and a shiver runs down my spine. I turn around to see him standing there, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he asks, "Ready to go?"

I nod and am walking over when Leah cuts in front of me and jabs him roughly in the chest, "You, sir, are in major trouble if you ever, _ever_ hurt her again, ya hear me?"

Paul looks down at her and swallows, "Got it."

She jabs him in the chest one more time before turning away and saying to me, "Laters, Bella."

I watch her go and smile for what feels like the first time that day.

Paul looks at me with raised eyebrows and I shrug.

"Alright, want to head out then?"

I answer him by beginning to walk. He walks with me and we're silent as we walk to the car. Once we reach it I hop in and sit my bag on the floor of the car between my feet. He hops in as well and I focus on the scenery as we pull out the of the school parking lot. It begins to rain and the heavy drops are pounding down on the roof.

I don't even notice when Paul pulls over onto the shoulder of the road and I can barely hear him, the drumming of the rain is so loud, when he says, "Are you ever going to talk to me again?"

I look over at him and yell, "What do you want me to say, Paul?"

"I just want you to talk to me, damn it!" He slams his hands down onto the steering wheel. "You used to talk to me!"

"Yeah! Back when I trusted you!" I shout, turning in my seat to face him.

"I want you to trust me again! You just have to let me gain it back!"

"You wouldn't have to gain it back, Paul, if you hadn't thrown it all away!"

"I get it! I hurt you! I shouldn't have taken out all my anger on you! I should've stopped hurting you when I knew you were strong...I shouldn't have done a lot of things."

"But you did, Paul! And it is so hard for me to do let it go because you lied to me! You told me all this stuff and I believed you and then you took it all back!"

Paul takes my face between his two large palms and looks me in the eye, speaking lowly, when he says, "I meant every single word I said when we were friends. That was _real_. That day in class was _real_. You are everything I said you are, Bella."

I wrap my hands around his wrists and brush my thumbs along his hot skin and close my eyes. "I want to believe you, Paul. But, I just..."

"I know, Baby-girl, I know." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "I am going to make you believe again."

**P ~ B**

The next months fly by, marked by the the greening grass and blooming flowers. Those months are filled with Paul and the hole in my chest healing. He is so different now. I don't fool myself into thinking that I changed him or that he regrets anything that he did. He just seems more open with me now, less closed. But ever so slowly, the words that Paul said that were carved into my brain are being sanded over, smoothed out and replaced.

Despite the fact that Paul was more open with me, he wasn't any less angry about his Dad. He still had him moments where I was on the receiving end of his lashing out. I didn't really mind though, because I knew what was really behind it. I now knew that the words and angry threats were nothing but empty.

Leah was still not convinced though. They both tolerated each other and our lunches together weren't as bad as the first one. Sometimes their verbal sparring became malicious, at which point I stepped in.

I am locking up the house when Paul saddles up in front my house, honking his horn.

I smile as I hop in, "Somebody is impatient today."

Paul smirks and says, "Ha ha ha. How was your night?"

"Same old, same old. You know me, boring Bella."

"You are anything but boring."

"I think you're a bit biased."

"True. I can't resist your charms." He teases, flashing his perfectly white teeth and my stomach flip flops.

I roll my eyes, muttering. "I think its the other way around."

Paul gasps exaggeratedly, mockingly, "Did I just get a compliment?"

I chuckle, "Nothing you don't already know."

"Pff, you can so resist me, dude."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So, you didn't charm your way into getting me to watch _Mall_ _Rats_ when I wanted to watch _Chasing_ _Amy_?" I laugh, peeking at him from the corner of my eye.

Paul laughs, "Whoa, you should be thanking me. Your movie was too romantic."

"_Chasing Amy _is about more than romance!"

"Yeah, what else is it about?"

"It's about social expectations and living up to them or denying them and...and..."

"Don't lie. You just like Ben Affleck."

I roll my eyes at him.

"We're watching it on our next movie night."

"That is if I can't _charm_ you into watching something else, Swan."

I playfully punch him in the shoulder, now that we've parked in the school parking lot. We step out of the car and as we're walking by the Pack I ask, with my eyes on them, "Tell my again why you haven't asked to come back?"

"Because I don't want to." Paul says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, turning my attention back to him. "I make my own rules now. I don't answer to anybody."

I chuckle and tease, "Didn't you do that before?"

Paul wrinkles his nose, "I tried, can't say I got very far."

"Were you punished for breaking his rules or orders?"

"Sometimes. Depended on the severity of my offense."

"I take it you had a lot of offenses?"

"Is that even a question; of course I did."

"Well, what would you do?"

"He'd tell me I had to go on patrol, I wouldn't. He'd tell me to control my temper or to work on my control and I wouldn't. Or I would purposefully phase when I know he didn't want me to. I'd attack Pack members. Anything really."

"Wow, very nice, Paul."

"I try, and thanks for recognizing my efforts; it's nice to finally be appreciated." Paul drawls sarcastically.

I laugh and say, "Well, don't go developing an ego on me."

Paul just laughs and removes his arm from around me now that we're at my locker. Time always flew by with Paul and I never paid attention to what was happening around me; I was too absorbed in him.

I grab the books I need for my first class after unlocking my locker and say, "See you at lunch?"

He nods before walking off and I am left alone. I lock up my locker and walk to class with Leah who finds me in the hallway.

We make small talk on the way to our respective classes and part once I reach my homeroom. My class flies by and I am carried through the moving student body to my locker during the transition time to get to our next class. I am collect my books and head off to my next class.

I am just approaching my second period class room when I see Paul chest to chest with Sam. The tension permeates the air and I immediately sense it as I slowly make my approach. They are locked in some sort of conversation that can not be heard but only seen. I watch as Paul's nostrils flare and all of a sudden a deep, rolling, menacing growl bursts from his chest. Sam returns one and by now I am within two feet of them.

"Paul?" I venture and he releases another growl, stepping away from Sam.

He grabs my hand and we're whizzing through the hallway, away from Sam and past the English room with his long strides.

"Paul," I say harshly. "What's going on?"

"Got any important classes today?" He returns as we burst from an emergency exit located at the end of the hall, on the left wall, and into the school parking lot.

"Not really, no."

"Good. Because we're taking the day off."

"We?"

"Yeah. We. No harm came from a little skipping, you told me that once." He says and unlocks his car now that we've made it to it.

He releases my hand and I halt in front of the car. "I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me what happened back there."

"It's what happens when to Alphas encounter each other. We're sharing turf. We naturally feel the need to stake our claim. Happy?" His voice is clipped and curt.

My eyebrow arches without permission, "Not really. That doesn't answer my question as to why we're taking off."

"We're taking off," Paul growls out harshly. "Because I feel the strong need to Phase and sink my teeth into his neck and as much as I would love to indulge that urge; I can't, not on school property at least. So I need to calm down and get the fuck out of here. You're pretty much the only thing that's going to do that."

I look at him with wide eyes for a few moments, shocked by his genuine violent streak being exhibited. I knew Paul was angry and hit you first before asking questions but, call me a fool, I didn't quite realize just what a hankering for destruction he had. I couldn't really fault him for it. Half it was due to the fact that he was more animal than he was boy at this point but it was still disturbing.

I don't acknowledge his confession verbally, I merely hop into the car and try to settle my hammering heart. A voice whispered within to get the hell out of this car, because, really, just how safe was I? He himself admitted he was on the verge of Phasing, and that was no lie; he trembled like I had never seen before. I knew that he had told me I was the only person capable of subduing him but at what expense? Injury? Look at what happened to Emily when Sam Phased.

I am silent as we pull out of the school parking lot and watch him nervously from the corner of my eye. I had always thought Paul wouldn't hurt me, but now I doubted it. He wouldn't do it in his right mind, but was he in his right mind when he was on the brink of becoming the animal inside of him? I wasn't so sure.

As if he can read my mind he says, "I'm not going to hurt you, Bella - I will never let that happen."

"How'd you know?" I pick at the skin around my thumbnail nervously.

"I can smell the fear."

"Seriously?" I gape at him.

Paul laughs and nods his head, "I have incredible senses because of what I am."

"Hearing?"

"I can hear your heart."

"Wow," I mutter to myself. "That's cool."

"Not really. I mean, at first it was but now it's just annoying."

I shake my head at him and ask, "Are you better now? You've stopped trembling."

"I'm fine," Paul clenches his jaw. "I just...need to reign it in a little more."

I nod and leave him alone, seeing that my questions aren't aiding him at all. I remain quiet for another few minutes and note that we are driving aimlessly.

"We can go to my place if you'd like, my parents are at work."

Paul nods and changes routes so that we're headed for my house. The drive is quick and soon we're pulling up to the house. I move to hop out but am stopped by Paul's hand on my forearm.

"Thank you." He whispers.

I frown at him. "What for?"

"For being here for me, especially after all that I've done."

I turn to face him in my seat, "Paul, I don't know what to say...I mean, I won't lie and tell you that I've forgotten about what's happened, but it's the past and needs to stay there. I certainly won't say that I am without any insecurities or that there are moments where I sometimes don't struggle to believe you. But Paul, we're strong enough to push through this. I know we are. I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm going to be here and I won't fall for it when you try and get rid of me."

I take his hand in mine and give it a firm squeeze before releasing it and getting out of the car. Paul is silent as we enter the house and I drop my bag at the door and kick my shoes off.

"Pick a movie. I'll make some snacks."

He nods and we go our separate ways.

I sometimes wonder if Paul felt more than I did. He would have these unexpected moments, such as the one in the car, where he would open up more than usual and let me see him from the inside. I make two bags of Jiffy-Pop and grab a box of cookies before heading back to Paul.

I enter the living room and see him sitting on the couch, his left leg moving up-down-up-down-up-down in rapid succession. I hand him the bowl of popcorn and ask, "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm _fine_." He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Are you sure? Because you still seem pretty keyed up - "

"For fuck's sake woman," Paul yell-growls at me. "Leave it!"

I take in a deep breath so that I don't snap back like I want to and worsen the situation. I sit down on the opposite side of the couch and tear open the bag of cookies and tossing them onto the middle of the couch, knowing Paul will want more than just popcorn.

"What movie did you choose?" I ask quietly, my voice almost a whisper, as if it too was fearful of provoking him.

"_Chasing_ _Amy_." He mutters.

I smile to myself and turn my attention to the screen.

We're a quarter of the way into the movie when I hear Paul say, "Are you gonna stay over there for the whole movie?"

Normally when Paul and I watched a movie together we would sit closely, and sometimes he'd wrap an arm around me. It felt natural to do things like that for us, despite the fact that we hadn't done anything more than platonic since our last fight before the huge fallout. We had been truly friends for the past few months and done nothing remotely like we had done in the past. I wouldn't dare to say that I hadn't fallen back to my old habits, for I had. The crush I had on Paul was a constant in my life, something that was always there and more pronounced in his presence.

My heart flutters in my chest and my stomach flip flops. I peek out of him from the corner of my eye and see that he is watching me.

"What if I plan on it?" I tease, not taking my eyes off the screen.

"Then I'd just have to drag you over here." He says, his voice low and dark.

I shake my head at him, a smile curling my lips. I have my legs curled under me, my feet angled towards Paul and I barely see it before it happens; his hand shoots out and he laughs when I shriek, pulling me towards him. The mood between us is playful and light for once and I giggle when he tickles my foot, assaulting the arch of my foot. I let out a peal of laughter, trying to yank my foot away.

"My, my, my, someone is ticklish," Paul remarks and arches over me on the couch. "I wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else."

I press my back further into the couch now that I am laying on it, "No, no, no!"

"Hmm," He hums, pressing my squirming body down into the couch with his own, virtually restraining me. "I think you are."

I try to push him off me, but my hands are useless even before he grabs them, pinning them above my head. He straddles my hips and all of a sudden his fingers are at my right side, pulling giggles and unattractive snorts out of me. I laugh and laugh, trying to move away to no avail.

"Please!" I screech, my stomach beginning to hurt because of the laughter. "Stop!"

He laughs with me and I struggle to catch my breath when he releases my hands only to use his now free one to attack my left side.

"Paul!" I laugh. "Stop-p i-it!"

I push at his hands and don't notice when he stops until the giggles trail off and I am just gasping for air. I look up at him and a certain silence has fallen between us. It's not angry but anticipatory, as if something was about to happen.

"What?" I whisper, a smile on my lips.

"Nothing," He says just as quietly. "You're just so...beautiful."

I snort and laugh at that too, closing my eyes for the briefest moment. I re-open them and Paul is much closer, eyes focused on my lips. My heart hammers in my chest and the single thought in my head is: _is he going to kiss me?_

"Bella?" He's a breath away, I feel it on my open lips.

"Yes?" My eyes are on his.

His lips cover mine and my eyes immediately close. This kiss was different from our others, less angry, less wanton, but just as passionate. It was slower and more tender than the others. It was less body and more heart.

I actually _feel_ the heat of his lips on mine this time and how smoothly they move with mine. This time I feel the fireworks that shoot out from my lips and spread everywhere else. This time I notice how soft his hair is as I run my hands through it. This time I can feel the soft pressure he applies and how my lips give way. I feel it all.

He pulls away after what feels like forever and I open my eyes to look into his. The nearly black orbs flit about my face and I feel a blush rise up, warming my cheeks as I look down and bite my lower lip.

"Look at me." He runs his thumb along my lip, pulling it away from my teeth.

I look into his eyes.

"Can I take you out?" He asks, his voice soft.

"Like on a date?" My nose scrunches up.

"Yes," He laughs. "Like on a date."

My heart thuds in my chest, blood courses through me as all sorts of thoughts fly through mind. All my insecurities, fears and doubts flood my brain and questions that shouldn't be posed are: what if this is fake? What if he's going to hurt me again? He is going to. I know it. No boy could be this way with me. I stop them immediately and correct them: I believed in Paul, I was close to trusting him and I knew that he wasn't aiming to hurt me anymore. But what if he was? A voice countered and my heart feels heavy with the weight of it all. Could we handle that? A date? Possibly a relationship more than friendship?

"You, uh, um...never mind," Paul mutters moving away from me, looking dejected. "Forget I asked."

"No!" The word leaves my lips in a gust of air.

"No?"

"No, I mean, as in, no I don't want to not go without you." My words are jumbled.

"So, yes?" Paul's lips curve into a smile.

"Yes," I giggle. "I'll go out with you."

"Like on a date?" Paul teases, mocking me.

"Like on a date." I affirm, grinning.

**A/N: So? **

**What do you think?**

**Paul still not your favorite?**

**Understand him a little more?**

**Still want him to return to the Pack?**

**Did Bella cave too easily? **

**Like the idea of them going on a date? **

**Let me know!**

**Thanks for reading. **

**Playlist for this Chapter: **

**Pumped Up Kicks - Foster the People**

**Big Wave - Jenny & Johnny **

**Stand - Mother Mother**

**Shake Me Down - Cage & the Elephant**

**Be Somebody - Kings of Leon**

**King of the Rodeo - Kings of Leon**

**Until next time, readers!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: This is way, way, way, way, way, over due. **

***Author cowers behind laptop***

**I am so sorry!**

**Between writer's block and my crazy schedule... it's taken me way longer than normal - and that's saying something when my updates aren't usually all that quick.**

**Sorry again!**

**I hope you enjoy it and that it's worth the wait!**

**Disclaimer: this is S.M's. Not mine. Sadly. **

**Chapter 12: In Spite of All the Danger**

I was going out of my mind over this date with Paul; what does one do when they have a date with a werewolf? Werewolf. It sounds weird, but I sometimes forgot about it. The thought was so morbid to me still, the notion of it all was still absurd. I knew that i didn't know that full extent of it either, that there were things Paul wasn't telling me about that certainly came with Imprinting. It was getting harder and harder for me to be away from him, despite the fact that we had reconciled and were spending the majority of our time together. I chalked things like that up to the Imprint bond.

I had so many questions for him but I also sensed that the furry topic was not one to be brought up. I didn't want to rock the boat and mess with him. Paul always seemed ready to fly off the handle on just about anything, and really, I was never one to flirt with danger.

Despite all my queries I was still looking forward to my date with Paul. A small corner of me was nervously fretting over it and all the complications that could result because of it. But the greater chunk of me was giddy and ready for it. Paul and were going on a date today, Friday, but I had no idea where we were going. He refused to tell me. No matter how much I badgered him or teased, Paul held firm.

I was nervously twiddling my thumbs and Leah was curling my long hair. She exhales heavily, the sigh laden with something I did not know. I am tempted to ask but I don't know if I want to hear the answer. When I had first told her that Paul and I were going on a date she wasn't happy. She tolerated Paul, but she still didn't understand him or what was happening between us. She still remembered all the things he said to me that I had told her about. While I loved Leah for being in my corner, ready to fight for me, maybe even with me, I still wished they could get along.

"I can't believe I am doing this," Leah mutters, pulling the curling iron away, revealing a delicate curl. "He doesn't deserve you getting all dolled up for him anyway."

"Leah - " I begin before pausing with a frown. "I don't know what to say. Paul means something to me and I don't know, he's my - he's my Caleb."

Leah smiles softly, winding another lock of hair around the hot implement, "Your Caleb, huh?"

"I can't explain it, Leah." I blush at the thought of him; his smooth, quick-silver laugh and arching brow with the smirk to match. "He is just is. He makes me laugh and doesn't treat me like I am lesser than him. At least not anymore..." I trail off, picking at the skin around my thumb nervously.

"Yeah," She mumbles snidely. "Not anymore."

Her gaze catches mine in the mirror that we're stationed in front of and it makes me feel ashamed. Like it was horrible that I was going out with him. I didn't know what to tell her; what could I say? That I couldn't help it? That there was this part of me, this huge part of me that literally cried out for Paul? That it was growing? Consuming me? I _needed_ Paul. There was no choice in it. I felt restless even though we spent time together. Like I need something more from him. The feeling was in my bones, in the tips of my fingers and the roots of my hair. It was everywhere. I couldn't ignore it.

"Leah," My eyes slide closed and I huff in frustration. "I don't know what to tell you. Yes, he hurt me. I know that, but I can't not give him a chance, he's just, you don't understand him like I do."

Leah nods, "I just worry about you."

"I know you do." I smile at her in the mirror. "But I managed him before you came along."

Leah chuckles, "Can you even _manage_ Paul?"

"Not really, no," I smirk. "But that's what I really like about him, you know? He just so - so free. He is so confident and just solid."

"He sure is solid." Leah waggles her eyebrows at me suggestively.

I snort, "Leah!"

"What?" She laughs. "Come on, girl, you cannot tell me that you don't see how damn _fine_ that boy is!"

I feel my cheeks burn, "I am well aware of how good looking he is."

She giggles and does a few more curls before setting down her tool, "All done."

"Thanks, Lee." I throw my hair back and forth watching the curls bounce and bob.

"He's not going to know what to do with you."

"Yeah, yeah," I say sarcastically. "Whatever."

"When are you going to take a compliment?"

"When they're true."

Leah scowls at me, "You do know that you're beautiful, right, Bella?"

I stare at her blankly, shrugging a shoulder. "I guess."

"Well," Leah sighs. "Even if you don't believe me, I'm going to keep on saying it."

I smirk at her before saying, "Do I look okay? My outfit, I mean."

Leah smiles, "Yeah, you look fantastic."

I was wearing tight fitted jeans, a boyfriend jacket with a white camisole underneath. I had a long necklace as well, the circular clumping of beads at the end sitting at my waist level. On my feat I donned my black converse and for once, I actually felt like I looked nice. The jacket was flattering, giving me a smooth waist line and my jeans, although tight, made my legs look good.

Leah had done my hair and make up and I was never more thankful for her. I didn't have a clue about any of it; it was just, well, too girly. I mean, I knew how to do some of it, like my mascara, but I just didn't bother with it. I mean, who did I have to impress? Well, I had someone now.

Leah opens her mouth to say something before closing it, before opening it again.

"Got something to say, Leah?" My eyebrow arches.

"Be careful tonight, okay?"

"Yes, _Mom_." I tease, laughing.

She's about to say something else when three sharp knocks come from downstairs. A smile takes over, stretching my mouth and I shoot past Leah. Her laugh chases me and my chest is heaving with the strong beat of my heart and the excitement coursing through my veins by the time I'm in front of the door.

I turn to Leah one last time and she gives me a thumbs up and I grab the door knob, it almost slips out of my grasp. My hands are damp, sweating with my nerves. I pull the door open to reveal Paul.

He's there on my porch, looking all sorts of nice. He adorns his black leather jacket with a tight white t-shirt stretching across his chest beneath it. His legs are hidden under black jeans and of course, on his feet are his well worn and scuffed boots. I save his face for last. It's my favorite. His lips are curved up into that smirk of his and his eyebrow is only slightly arched, just barely lifted. His eyes are black as ever dark and deep but dancing with something. He takes me in, "You clean up real well, Swan."

A blush rushes into my cheeks, I didn't know why but I felt shy around him all of a sudden. Everything felt different and the butterflies in my stomach were violently fluttering. My gut churned in the best way and my heart clenched as I smiled at him.

I hear Leah snort, "Clean up well? That's it? I spent forever curling her long ass hair-"

Paul's laugh fills the air and he appeases Leah, "She's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." But he's looking at me when he says it.

If possible my blush deepens and I roll my eyes, "Satisfied, Leah?"

"For now." She sniffs, but I know she's just teasing.

Paul shakes his head and Leah grabs her jacket off the coat hook by the door, "Well, you kids have fun, and remember, no glove, no love."

"Leah!" I glare at her and Paul lets out a chuckle.

She leaves us, giggles trailing behind her. I watch her go, a small smile on my lips ads I shake my head. I turn my attention to Paul who eyes are tracing the length of my form, dancing about.

"Seriously, though," Paul says, his voice deep and low and it makes my gut jump. "You look gorgeous."

"Yeah, yeah, Casanova," I grab my jacket. "Let's go."

He smirks at me, motioning for me to walk out, "After you, my lady."

I walk through the door and he closes the door behind us, "Where are -"

"My parents?" I interrupt knowingly. Paul had taken an interest in just how often I was on my own and had made a habit of asking me almost every week or so where my parents were. "Corporate dinner or something or other, Seattle this time."

A growl rumbles out from Paul, low and angry. I look over at Paul and raise my eyebrows at him, "Why does it bother you so much?"

"Because you deserve better than to just be ignored."

"Well," I lace my fingers through his. "Just think of it this way, you've got me all to yourself, most of the time."

He smirks down at me, squeezing my hand, "Can't say I don't like the sound of that."

I smile up at him, and let go of his hand once we reach his car. I hop in quickly and ask Paul once he gets inside, "So, where are you taking me tonight?"

He smiles, "You think I'm going to tell you? I've kept it to myself all week."

"Come on!" I whine. "Tell me!"

He laughs, starting up the car, "You're not going to get it out of me."

Huffing, I slump in my seat, "Not even a hint?"

"Not even a hint." Paul glances at me from the corner of his eye, flashing his white teeth at me through a smile.

I kept my eyes on him even though he looked away. I couldn't help but recall Leah's words and I could feel that I agreed between my legs. He was really was good looking, just as Leah had proclaimed earlier. His smooth skin and raven black hair was something to be desired that was for sure. His jaw line was firm, just as straight as his nose. His lips were full but not too much, just right. My fingers itched to touch and explore, to feel him.

He takes in a deep breath, a low, husky growl coming from deep in his chest, "See something you like?"

"Maybe." I tease, biting my lip as I turn my attention to the scenery.

**P ~ B**

We pull into the parking lot of what looks to be a bowling alley in Port Angeles.

"You're taking me _bowling_?" I glance between him and the blinking neon sign.

"Yup." He says, the 'p' popping.

"You do realize that I have no coordination and could end up injuring you, myself, and probably the other bowlers on this date?"

"Don't worry. I'l teach you how to bowl." Paul gets out the car, leaving me no choice but do so as well.

I hop out and jog to catch up with him. I loved the way he moved; quick, sure, lithe. He wraps an arm around my shoulders once I reach his side and he asks, "Any guy ever taken you bowling before?"

A mad blush overtakes my cheeks and a feeling of embarrassment sweeps through me when I answer. "Um, this is my first date ever."

"_Ever_?"

"Yes. Ever."

"Wow," Paul mumbles. "Can't say I don't like the idea of that."

"Why? Would you be upset if had a slew of boys in the past?" I tease.

"I don't know, there's just something about knowing that you're mine in every sense of the word that I like. Your fist date, mine; first second date, mine." Paul says cheekily, opening the door to the bowling alley and ushering me.

The sound of colliding pins and balls rolling over waxed wood greeted my ears as Paul and I approached the desk where you ordered your shoes. A boy our age with bad acne and poorly done gelled hair sighed, "Shoe size?"

"Fourteen." Paul answers and my jaw falls open.

"_Fourteen_?"

"Fourteen," Paul grins, waggling his eyebrows. "You know what they say about guys with big feet, Swan."

"Paul!" I reprimand.

"Big shoes, Swan! Get your mind out of the gutter."

**P ~ B**

I huffed in frustration as I watched Paul get his third strike.

In a row.

This was ridiculous.

Paul walks back victoriously, a smug smile on is face and gleaming in those dark eyes. I stick my tongue out at him and grab my ball, walking to the mouth of the lane determinedly. I feel my eyebrows pinch together into a frown of pure concentration as I swing the ball back and bring it forward, releasing the ball.

It rolls, turning to the left and into the gutter. "No!"

I turn around to see Paul standing, arms crossed over his chest as he attempts to hold his laughter in. I scrunch my nose up and defend, "I've still got another chance to hit the pins!"

"Yeah," Paul laughs. "That's what you said last time."

I roll my eyes playfully, grab my ball that has returned and march back over to the lane. I was officially determined to wipe that smug smirk off his face and quiet that stifled laugh.

I take in a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment and yelp when I feel Paul standing directly behind me. He was so close; I could feel the heat coming off his body, his breath seeping into my hair with his exhale. My heart sets into a hammering rhythm, my gut clenches, and my stomach flips. Excitement and nervousness is rushing through my system and I just about die when I feel his fingers graze the back of my neck, pushing my hair aside. My breath catches and I feel his lips move against the shell of my ear as he chuckles and says, "Relax. I'm going to teach you how to bowl, since you _clearly_ don't know how."

His voice was so deep and an imperceptible shudder runs through me.

"First: your bowler's stance."

He places his hot hands on my hips, his thumbs somehow sneaking their way underneath my shirt, touching my bare skin. My eyes flutter closed for a moment, only to snap open when he shifts me so that my stance is wider and slightly turned. He removes his hands after a beat or two, slides them up my arms ever so slowly to my shoulders where he shifts them as well.

"Second: your form," Paul says, and I can see the smirk that surely sits on his lips. "Give me the ball."

I pass it over and he sets it down by our feet before sliding back behind me, closer now if that were possible.

His hand slides down my arm, cupping the back of my hand as he pulled it back, "You're too stiff - loosen up a bit, baby girl."

My heart clenches in my chest at his nick name and a grin takes form on my lips. He then places his other hand back on my hip and begins rocking us back and forth, mimicking the actions of someone in the process of bowling. My lungs forget how to operate for the duration of this and I was wondering how he managed to make this so damn sensual.

"Now, for the ball." Paul murmurs, lips still at my ear.

He places the ball in my hands, stepping away, "Now try."

I feel cold and bereft as he pulls away, but I still grab the ball and do just as Paul taught me. The ball hits the waxed wood, sliding down the middle and I jump up victoriously when it hits the pins, knocking all but one down.

I jump up, "I did it!"

Paul's laugh surrounds me and I spin around to face him and do a weird happy dance that is a cross between the robot and running man. His laugh gets louder and he shakes his head, "You do realize I'm still winning."

"Oh hush," I smile. "That's the best score I've gotten yet! I don't care if I win or lose."

Paul and I proceed with our game and it's no surprise that Paul won. He gloats and gloats, reminding me whenever he can of my lacking skills but I just smile and jest back. We are currently sitting in the snack bar area of the bowling alley with Paul scarfing down his second burger.

I sip my iced tea and try to ignore the temptation sitting before me. Paul had filled the tray with wings, fries (multiple baskets) and three burgers. I politely declined when he offered to buy me something, saying that I'd steal a fry or two.

I lied.

I hadn't had a fry in six months.

I was trying to loose weight.

But that didn't mean much right now.

My mouth was watering.

My stomach was growling.

I sipped my iced tea.

"You're making me look fat," Paul says around a mouthful of burger. "I'm the only one eating this stuff."

I roll my eyes, "Believe me, between the two of us, _you_'_re_ not the fat one."

"Don't." He growls.

"It's the truth."

"Not to me."

"Well to everyone else I'm the fat one."

"Stop talking like that, Swan."

"You called me fat once."

"That was different."

"How?"

"Bella." He snaps in frustration. "It was different, okay?"

"So you're telling me that you don't mind that I am size fourteen?"

"Nope." His 'p' pops.

"Why? It used to."

"I don't know," Paul says, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. "It just doesn't anymore."

I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"Eat a fry."

"No."

"Eat it."

"I haven't had one in six months."

"If you enjoyed this date then you'll eat a fry."

"You can't do that. I enjoyed this date. I just don't want to eat a fry."

"You do want to. You're just so wrapped up in what it'll do. Who cares? You're not gonna gain a pound from _one_ fry."

"Paul," I scowl. "I just can't."

"Does you're weight really bother you that much?"

"Most days, no; but there are times when it does _bother_ _me_ _that_ _much_."

"Fine." Paul huffs. "I'll just be here; enjoying my _delicious_ fries."

"I've got restraint, Paul," I take a sip of my iced tea. "I don't give in easily to temptation."

"I hate to break it to you, baby-girl, but you couldn't resist me if you tried." He pauses, mockingly ponders for a few moments. "Oh, wait! You already tried...and failed!"

I grin, "I believe it was the other way around, sir."

"Probably." Paul appeases, leaning back in the chair opposite me. "But I believe it was you who dared me to kiss you first."

"Whoa," I lean forward, crossing my arms. "Slow down there, cowboy, _you_ kissed _me_ first, technically speaking."

"That so doesn't count."

"It so does!"

"No way, Swan, that was based on something way different."

"Irrelevant!" I huff, determined to win at least the argument, he had won at bowling - he had to give me something. "You _kissed_ me!"

Paul takes another bite of his burger, "Fine, I may have kissed you first, but back to the main point, you couldn't resist me."

A blush pools in my cheeks. "It's rare that I can."

He smiles triumphantly, takes a large slurp of his drink, "Don't worry. It's hard for most chicks."

I smile cheekily at him, "Don't let your head get too big, it's already nearing a hazardous state."

"Are you saying I have an ego?"

"Maybe."

"I assure you, Swan, my ego is barely detectable."

"Oh, really?" I laugh, arching an eyebrow.

Paul scoffs mockingly, "Me? Ego? Overinflated? Those words just don't belong together."

I smirk at him and sarcastically drawl, "Yeah, okay, buddy."

Paul finishes his meal surprisingly quickly and he's got his arm around my shoulder as we exit the bowling alley. We get to his car and both hop in. I am buckling up when I say, "Thanks for tonight, I had fun."

Paul grins wolfishly, "The nights not over yet and neither is our date."

**P ~ B**

I stare up at the night sky and can't help but feel a little insignificant.

Paul and I were currently laying on the forest floor, in the woods behind his house. He told me that this was his place; that he came here and did what we were doing right now often. I felt humbled that he was willing to share such a personal space with me and noted that I would have to thank him for sharing it with me. But for now I would enjoy it with him.

I take in the navy, almost indigo color of the darkened sky that is littered with bright stars and sigh contentedly. I lay there for a few moments before turning to look at Paul to find him already looking at me. I blush and whisper, "Don't you know it's rude to stare?"

Paul smirks, rolling onto his side, murmurs huskily, "I thought I told you that you were mine to look at."

My gut clenches and my stomach flips at the same time and I roll onto my side as well. I look up at him, and whisper again, "Am I yours to kiss as well?"

He smirks and curls my hair behind my ear, sinking his hand into my locks in one smooth motion. He leans downward, and I feel his lips move when he says, "Definitely."

My eyes fall closed and I press my lips to his.

Our kiss is more of a series of kisses but it's perfect nonetheless and I thread my fingers through his hair. He pulls away after a few moments and just looks at me. I drop my gaze to his chest and let my hands slide out of his hair.

"Hey," He rumbles out, his voice deep. "Don't hide from me."

I glance back up at him and ask, "Paul?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you let me see you as, well, you know, a wolf?" My voice is quiet, timid as I ask the question.

Paul stiffens, "No."

I roll away from him and clench my eyes closed in frustration.

"How is this ever going to work if you want to keep us separate from the thing that has brought us together, Paul? You can't keep your world hidden from me forever."

Paul rolls away as well and distance is put back between us. I shake my head and stare up at the sky again. I knew that this wasn't going to be easy, but I wanted to be apart of his world; I wanted to know what was expected of me, as an Imprint - hell, I wanted to know what that even meant still. Sure I was his mate, but what the hell was that supposed to mean to me?

A thought shoots across my brain: did he intend to keep me in the dark about it all, indefinitely?

"You have to explain this to me, Paul, I don't _just_ _know_ it like you do."

Paul remains silent and I roll my eyes.

We couldn't do anything right.

At least not together.

I sit up and hug my legs to my chest.

These were the moments when I wished Paul was different.

He was perpetually grouchy and abrasive; I knew that, I just wished that he wasn't so damned harsh.

Huffing, I mutter, "Take me home."

I stand up, smoothing out my clothes.

Paul looks up at me, "Why?"

"Because, Paul, I'm not prepared to argue with you tonight."

"So don't."

I cross my arms over my chest. "If only it were that easy."

"It could be."

"Seriously, Paul - I want to go home."

Paul snorts. "No you don't. You just want to run away from this situation. Deal with it, Swan. Loose that passive aggressive streak."

I would've been hurt by that comment before.

Would have taken it to heart.

Cried over it.

Analyze it.

"Piss off." I scoff. "I'm not running away. I just know that this is going to turn into an argument and I don't feel like challenging you tonight, on our date no less."

Paul ignores me. "Lay down."

"Aren't you the dog between the two of us?"

Paul rolls his eyes. "Clever."

"I know."

"Lay down with me, baby girl," Paul says, his voice bordering on pleading. His eyes are soft; weakened by the warmth he only seems to have for me and I sigh. "Please?"

I lay back down with a huff of annoyance. "I'm only laying here because you refuse to give me a ride."

"Come closer." Paul says, his voice deep, soaked in huskiness.

I look over at him. "Give me one good reason."

"Because I'm lonely."

"Hmm, doesn't cut it." I tease.

"Because you want to."

I let out a guffaw.

"Because I hate when you ignore me."

I look over at him briefly.

"Because I need you close."

I want to stay angry with him.

Want to hold onto my frustration.

But he made it impossible.

"I'm supposed to be mad at you." I whine.

Paul's hand finds mine. "You couldn't stay mad at me. I'm too cute."

A smile tugs at my lips. "You won't have your looks forever."

He grips my hand, tugging me closer. "But I will have my fantastic personality."

I find myself situated against his side, his arm holding me close. I lay my hand on his chest and am still startled by his warmth. I draw doodles with my finger, smirking whenever the muscles contract.

The night surrounds us and we can only hear the soft breeze playing in the trees and the crickets quietly chirping. I feel an overwhelming sense of calm and peace, even though Paul and I were as far as we could get from it.

Even though Paul was never in a good mood, not really, and almost always angry; I still cared for him. I still liked him. Even though he was the type to shoot first and ask questions later, I still liked him. But he was sweet with me and as much as he hated to admit it, I knew he cared. I knew that behind every glare, every biting comment was a boy who didn't really mean it.

I rest my cheek upon his chest and close my eyes.

I listen to his heart beat.

So strong and sure.

Just like him.

I knew that behind this wall of his, Paul had a good heart.

Paul's hand trails up and down my side, plays with the ends of my curled hair only to repeat the process. I press closer and try to hold onto this moment. I knew that any time of peace between Paul and I was seldom.

A lupine sound of contentment greets my ear, a rumbling deep in his chest. I smile and look up at Paul, to find him almost blushing.

"I can't control it."

I rub his chest, "I like it."

The sound grows louder and I laugh openly.

"Shut up." He mutters and playfully growls at me.

**P ~ B **

Paul saddles up to the curb in front of my house and pulls the keys out of the ignition. We both remain sitting in the car and I wonder if Paul is thinking what I'm thinking: that I don't want this date to be over.

I briefly wonder if there will be another one when I feel Paul's eyes on me. I glance over at him, blushing for who knows why, and looking down at my hands laying in my lap. All of a sudden a wave of nerves hit me an dI have no idea what to do. Do I just get out of the car or do I just, I don't know, sit here?

_Yes, dip-shit, just sit here and wait_, I answer myself internally.

I take in a deep breath, "I had fun tonight."

"Me too."

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, or Monday, or something." I stumble like an idiot over my words.

My hand is on the door handle and i moving to get out of the car when Paul asks, "I don't get a good night kiss?"

He says it teasingly and I blush.

I slide back into my seat, and turn to face him, "I wasn't aware you wanted one?"

"It's customary."

"Oh, so this is all about tradition then?" I lean a bit closer to him.

"Pretty much." His nose is an inch from mine.

"Interesting."

Paul cups the back of my head with his hand and draws me in, pressing his lips to mine. He mixes suction with smack and I swear - it's a lethal combination. I press closer, sliding my hands into his hair and let out a little sigh. He smirks into the kiss and I feel his warm hand on my waist, trying to bring me in a little bit more.

I wonder if he minds the softness of my waist.

How it curves.

If he can feel the pliable quality of my skin.

I close my mind to the thoughts and try to focus on the here and now.

Paul pulls on my lip with his teeth, "Stop it."

"What" _kiss_ "are" _kiss_ "talking" _kiss_ "about?"

"Just feel," He slides his tongue along my lower lip. "No thinking."

I slide my hands into his hair for the second time, not realizing I'd moved them, and he pulls his lips away from mine and our breath mixes together. I move forward and press my lips to his, sucking on his bottom lip. He growls and grips my waist more firmly.

I get that feeling between my legs and I gasp, ripping my lips away from his, "_Fuck_."

Paul chuckles darkly, huskily, directing my lips back to his.

Gasps for air and the sounds of our lips smacking together and meeting again, fill his car for the longest time. He kisses me deeper than I've ever been kissed before and I feel hot all over. _All_ _over_.

I know we need to stop soon.

Things were heating up.

Too fast.

Way too soon.

But I didn't want to - not when it felt so damn good. His thumb just barely brushes the underside of my breast and I shudder. He chuckles and I scrape my teeth along his lower lip.

"We need" _pant_ "to" _kiss_ "stop."

I pull away and so does Paul. We both lean back against our respective seats and the sounds of our panting fills the car.

"Wow." He pants, with a sidelong grin. "I knew it was the quiet ones to watch out for."

For the first time in a very long time, I laugh.

**P ~ B **

It had been a week of Paul and I.

He was always at my place.

And we were always making out.

All. The. Time.

I swear my lips were perpetually swollen from his deliciously rough kisses.

Even though I enjoyed the smooth sailing, I still wanted to know about the werewolf factor. He had yet to mention it or bring it up at all. It was like he didn't want me to know anything - like he wanted to ignore it. I didn't want to push it when things were going so well. But at some point, we _had_ to talk about it.

I just didn't know how to breech the topic without causing any big waves.

So here we were, at his place for once, lounging around. We were laying on his bed, listening to music and just enjoying each other's company. I had my eyes closed, humming along under my breath, which I'm sure Paul could hear - but I didn't let that get to me. I blinked my eyes open to find Paul looking over at me with this look.

"What?"

"Nothing." He smirks.

"Come on! Tell me!"

"Tell you about what?"

"Why you were looking at me like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Paul says, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "What look?"

I reach out and tickle his side, anticipating laughter but instead silence greets me. I glare up at him, "You're not ticklish, are you?"

"Nope." He laughs, the 'p' popping.

I grumble under my breath and poke his side. "So unfair. I'm ticklish everywhere."

He just laughs again, grabbing my wrist that is poking at his side, trying to find a ticklish spot - I didn't believe him, he _had_ to be ticklish. Everyone was. Paul tugs on my wrist, causing me roll over and on top of him. I instinctively straddle his hips and immediately feel uncomfortable.

I move to get out of the position but Paul grabs my hips, holding me there. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm too heavy."

Paul scoffs, "No you're not."

"Paul," I insist, my voice quiet. "Please."

I knew how much I weighed - how comfortable would it be for him to have all of that weight resting on him?

My cheeks burn and I feel embarrassed.

Paul slides his hands up and down my thighs, squeezing my hips, "You're not heavy, baby-girl."

I snort and try to move again.

Paul only gets a firmer grip and says, "I quite like this view."

I glance down at him, and he waggles his eye brows - his gaze is focused on my tits.

I roll my eyes, and huff, holding most my weight on my legs.

He chuckles and squeezes my hips again, "Kiss me."

I lean down, my hair forming a screen on either side of us and press my lips to his. He smirks against my lips and sneaks his thumbs under my top so they rest on my love handles. I shudder at the heat of his touch, running my tongue along the seam of his lips. He opens his mouth to me and his tongue greets mine readily and a battle for dominance begins. I sink my hands into his hair, and all I can hear is the exchange of our breaths and feel his touch on my skin - which only serves to make the throbbing between my legs worsen.

I smirk, tugging on his lower lip, when I feel him stiff and hard against my thigh. His lips capture mine in return, pulling my lower lip between his.

The kiss becomes some sort of frenzied fervor, that has as grabbing at each other desperately. I am struggling to keep up with him as our teeth click and our tongues tease. My breath stutters in my throat when I feel his hands slide down to grip my ass. He chuckles huskily into my mouth at my reaction, and bucks upwards and into me - hitting me right _there_ - that aching spot.

My lungs burn for oxygen and I rip my mouth away from his, only to feel his mouth move onto my neck. I grind down against him, seeking some friction to end the nearly painful throb between my legs. He growls against my neck and my already damp underwear is surely more than damp now.

Paul breathes in deeply, "_Fuck_."

He flips us so that he's overtop of me and captures my lips in a searing kiss yet again. I don't bother to challenge him for control when I feel his hot tongue invade my mouth. I grip his hair tightly and try to hold back the moan when I feel him roll his hips against mine. I reciprocate and can't help it when a whimper escapes me and my toes curl.

I grip his broad, muscular shoulders as we move our hips wantonly against each other's and try to stifle the sounds begging to escape.

Paul moves his mouth away from mine, kissing along my jaw as he moves his hips to the most frustrating rhythm. I bite on my lower lip and just about die when I feel his hot breath at my ear, groaning, "Baby-girl..."

I melt like butter, turning my head and seeking out his lips. I draw my legs up, changing the angle and I notice that a subtle tremble is moving through Paul and growls are slowly rolling out of his chest. I pull my lips from his, grasping his face in my hands as I pant, "Are you okay?"

His eyes are clenched closed and he emits a purely primal sound as he says, "It's getting so fucking hard to resist."

"Resist what?" I ask as another growl, louder this time, bursts from Paul's chest.

"To claim you." He growls, brutally thrusting his hips against me.

I arch into him, "Paul!"

He groans, sliding his hand into my hair and tugging on it slightly.

"Claiming?" I question against his hot mouth.

Paul stops kissing me and rolls away, laying next to me.

"It's getting hard to resist the urge, to quite frankly, _fuck_ you - to mark you with my scent." His voice is all wrong when he says it.

My stomach feels like it's filled with rocks and it slowly sinks down into my gut. I close my eyes, and try to ignore the heat of my body - particularly in that one spot as it throbs and clenches.

Anger churns inside of me and I snap, "This wouldn't be so damn hard if you just told me about this shit."

Paul gets up, sitting on the edge of his bed with his back to me.

This just only serves to bother me some more.

I get up off the bed, muttering, "Typical."

Paul is now standing as well, eyebrows arched, "What's typical?"

"You!" I snap, grabbing my shoes from the end of his bed. "You just keep hiding all this shit - and as soon as I ask a question you completely ignore it. You promised me answers Paul - I waited five damn weeks; so tell me, why the hell am I _still_ waiting?"

"You're still waiting because I am trying not to scare you off - okay?" He retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

I roll my eyes, walking out of his bedroom, "You know, I think that your whole routine about wanting me _ready, _wanting me _strong_ - is complete bullshit!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Paul growls, following me.

I spin around to face him, "Between the two of us, _you're_ the one who isn't ready - _you're_ the one who isn't strong enough!"

Paul snarls, "Fuck you!"

"Don't you mean _claim_ me?" I jab, going down the stairs.

"Why are you so damn pissed?" Paul yells. "What do you want?"

I flinch at the volume of his voice and look at him, "I want you to include me, Paul! I want to be apart of this world - _your_ world!"

"You don't know what you're asking for." Paul growls, looking feral.

I hadn't seen Paul like this since those months of torture - back when he was still an asshole to me. If I were being honest, he never really stopped being one - I just managed to build up a tolerance.

I laugh mirthlessly, "And who's fault is it that I am so fucking clueless?"

Paul begins to tremble and I know that I am pushing him too much.

But I can't seem to stop.

He was the only person who managed to get me this angry.

A lump of pure frustration and ire sits on my chest as stare him down.

"It's your fault!" I shove him. "You refuse to let me in!"

"I am trying to protect you!"

I scoff. "Let me decide if I need the protection - let me see you, Paul."

Realization dawns on him and he shakes his head. "No."

"Bella, I will not let you see me Phase."

I let out a shriek of pure anger and much to my surprise, Paul grabs me by the upper arm and begins to walk us to the door.

"Fine."

Confusion rushes through me and dread churns in my gut. "Fine?"

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Warn me?"

He ignores me and I have to practically run to match his pace as we burst through the front door and clamber down his steps. He drags me into the forest lining his house and fear pinches at my belly. I didn't know what was going on and Paul clearly wasn't himself. He was someone or something else entirely.

He releases me and I stumble, tripping over a tree root. We were deep in the forest and nothing but trees were in sight - I couldn't even see Paul's house when I looked back. I turn my attention back to him.

"Watch." He snaps.

"Wh-what?"

"You wanted this."

"But not like this - "

"You were _begging_ me moments ago."

"Paul - " My voice is faint, pleading.

He just growls loudly, cutting me off.

Paul stands before me and I watch as violent, rolling trembles move across his skin. Loud growls erupt from his chest and the chords in his neck are pulled taught. I wince at the sight and the most sickening noise greets my ear - a harsh snap, like a bone had been broken. His back arches at a sickening angle and I watch as his body begins to look less and less human. His lip is pulled back, his teeth looking more threatening than ever. He lurches forward and more snapping ensues. His arms bend at an angle that is inhuman - impossible. His legs do the same and I feel wetness on my cheeks. Now I knew why Paul wouldn't let me see him like this. Why he was refusing to tell me about his world. I feel sick to my stomach and I look away.

"_Look at me!_" He roars and I look back just in time to see him explode.

I felt like I did the time when I bothered my Mom for a scooter. She told be no, saying that it wasn't worth it - I already had bike. But I pushed and pushed and she relented - broke down and got me a scooter. But when she gave it to me, I didn't really want to ride it. I was to consumed by guilt of having pushed her - I got what I wanted, but didn't at the same time.

It was the same with Paul. I wanted him to want to show me his world.

Not because he was appeasing me.

My musings were cut short when I heard a fear inducing growl.

My eyes shoot to Paul and I cant help but stand in awe of him.

He was oddly beautiful.

My eyes reach his and I am shocked to find that they are as black as Paul's.

Well, this is Paul, technically speaking.

Guilt and fear mix in my stomach and I wipe my cheeks, not realizing I had been crying in the first place.

I step forward and reach my hand out but the creature - Paul - curls its lip back, revealing a set of very wolf-like teeth. He lets out a growl and I ignore it.

"I'm not scared of you."

I lay my hand on his head, stretching up on the tip of my toes to do so.

Paul lets out a huff in what I assume is annoyance.

I pet him, scratching behind his ear.

"I'm sorry I forced you to do this." I whisper and a lupine grunt is my response.

"I know this is hard for you," I mumble. "But I can be here for you. You just have to let me."

I almost felt stupid talking to a wolf. I mean, I almost felt crazy - I was in the middle of the forest talking to a wolf that was bigger than a bear.

I withdraw my hand from his head and let out a squeal when I feel him lick the length of my face.

"Paul!"

He presses his cold nose into the crook of my neck and lets out a sound unfamiliar to my ears - but it sounds playful. I laugh again when I feel him lick my cheek and pat him on the head.

Paul withdraws from me and begins to walk away, I am confused for a moment but then figure that he's going to Phase back. I wait for him to return and guilt churns in my gut - I liked it when he was a wolf; he couldn't talk back. I felt guilty for some reason - maybe it wasn't guilt, maybe it was just nervousness fused with fear. I wasn't really scared of Paul but afraid of the exchange that was about to occur.

I sense Paul - the hairs on the back of my neck stand and my gut clenches. I feel the heat of him behind me and I remain silent - holding my breath.

Paul circles to stand in front of me and doesn't meet my eyes. A sigh escapes my lips when I feel his hands slide into mine, entwining our fingers. I marvel at how easily they fit together - like puzzle pieces.

We were made for each other.

I lift my brown eyes to his onyx ones and squeeze his hand gently.

He rests his forehead against mine and squeezes my hand in return.

"I'm trying."

"I know."

He presses a kiss to my forehead. "I need you with me, Swan. I don't want to send you running with all the shit in my life."

"I hate running." I whisper.

**A/N: So? **

**Worth the wait? **

**Good balance of fluff, lemonade and angst? **

**Favorite part?**

**Kiss you liked best? **

**Liking Paul just a lil' bit more? **

**Anyway - thanks for hanging in, if you're still with me. **

**I really hope the chapter met your expectations to some degree - as in you all enjoyed it, despite having to wait just about a month for it. **

**Playlist****:**

**In Spite of All the Danger - The Quarrymen / John Lennon**

**Down by the Water - The Drums**

**Awake My Soul - Mumford & Sons **

**Arizona - Kings of Leon**

**Until next update readers!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I know. It has been so long since I have updated. It's quite ridiculous and I know how frustrating it is waiting around for a chapter to come out. This is longer over due and I hope that you enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, even though I wish it was.**

**Chapter 13: You and Me **

Three days had passed since I saw Paul in his wolf form; three days since he revealed that he needed me around. I was warmed from the inside by this single tidbit of information and it only served to point out to me that Paul and I needed to work on our communication skills. The only way we got anything out of each other was through confrontation and pushing each other. I didn't think that was all that healthy. I mean, aren't couples supposed to actually talk to each other when they had issues, not yell? I was aware that every couple had their arguments, however, when it came to Paul and I, our arguments were our conversations. I wondered how long we could go before that tactic blew up in our faces.

Huffing, almost physically feeling the weight of my thoughts, I close my locker. I twist the lock, secure it and shrug my back pack up onto my shoulders. I sometimes wondered if Paul shared any of my concerns. I somehow doubted it.

I felt him before I saw him.

It always seemed to work that way.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and a shiver rolls down my spine, my insides clench and flip flop and a gush of air rushes out of me. I turn around and watch as he makes his approach. He is wearing a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, and of course, his well worn boots, but it's enough to make me lick my lips. His hair flops forward, falling into his eyes, and my fingers twitch, wanting to push the silky strands back so I could see those eyes of his. He's closer now - close enough for me to see the stubble lining his jaw.

Once he reaches me I stretch up on to the tips of my toes, reaching up to brush the hair out of his eyes, curling it behind his ears. He bends his head, to make it easier and I press a kiss to his cheek, murmuring, "Hey."

"Hey, baby-girl." He returns, stealing a kiss from my lips. I smirk against them before relaxing and letting my lips mould with his. He pulls away, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading us down the hallway, "Ready for lunch?"

"Yeah," I lean into his side. "I just gotta go to the washroom, I'll meet you and Leah at the table though, okay?"

He nods and we separate when we near the girl's bathroom. I am just sliding the lock of the stall closed when I hear two girls come in. I pause when they begin to talk, freezing in my stance as I strain to hear what they are saying exactly.

"Have you seen Paul lately?" A girl asks.

"Yeah, he's looking really good these days. What I wouldn't give for a date with him."

Rocks fill my stomach and I get that sensation of it sinking into my gut as I sit down on the toilet. I wonder if they knows that he's with me - I don't feel threatened in any way by the girls. I know Paul only has eyes for me - it's literally impossible for him to want someone other than me at this point.

"I hear he's dating that Swan chick."

"That fat ass from fourth?" One of them snorts.

"Yeah."

"Really? Wow. He must be desperate for some ass then if he's resorting to her."

I wince, crossing my arms over my midsection.

"How can he even be with her?"

"I don't know, Lilly. I mean, she's just so...well, fat and he's fucking gorgeous. I can't imagine why he's even with her."

"Yeah." One girl sighs. "Oh well, I'm starving, let's get out of here."

I listen as the sound of their feet hitting the linoleum fades and the door to the girl's bathroom slams shut behind them. I remain sitting on the toilet and try to ignore their words that are bouncing around my head. I wasn't concerned about the possibility of them taking Paul away, nor did the comments about my weight bother me, but they got me thinking.

Paul was only with me because had to be - because he was _forced_ to be with me. He cared for me because of the Imprint bond, he wanted me because of the Imprint bond - not for any other reasons. The thoughts wrap around my throat like a noose, pulling tight, making it hard for me to breathe. A lump swells at the back my throat as I come to the horrific realization.

I do my business in the washroom, all of a sudden feeling as though I was filled with rocks and my veins filled with lead. Surprisingly, no tears fill my eyes, nothing but dread and this feeling of hollowness in my heart. I leave the bathroom, and consider going to the library to avoid Paul. There was no way I could face him like this - not with these thoughts. Not with the truth acknowledged. I knew though that if I did hide out in the library he would just come and find me and that was something that would be far worse than pretending I was okay. I had been pretending most my life; what was another day?

I make it to the cafeteria, my eyes scanning the room as I look for Leah and Paul. My eyes latch on to Paul's hulking form; even sitting down he looked huge. I shake my head when my heart skips in my chest and my stomach flips. The feeling of warmth that usually spreads through me when I see Paul is absent at the moment; chased away by my current thoughts.

I walk over the table, not even bothering to get any food - I didn't have an apatite. I sit down in the chair next to Paul and he smiles when he sees me. I take in his dark eyes that seem light today, and his wide smile that showcases his pearly whites. I brush his hair out of his face again and try to smile back, but I have a funny feeling it doesn't even come close to a smile.

"I need a hair cut." Paul says as I curl the strands behind his ear.

"I like it." I let my hand run through the strands one last time before drawing my hand away.

"Then I won't get it cut." He smirks.

I shake my head at him and Leah, coughs, "_Gross_."

Paul rolls his eyes at her, turning his attention to his lunch but not before wrapping an arm around me. His arm feels heavy and not as good as it usually does. If anything it makes me feel sick in light of my revelations and I stiffen, shifting forward so his arm falls to rest on the back of my chair. I know it doesn't escape Paul's or Leah's notice and I cringe when Paul asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah." I try to smile again but I know it doesn't work. "I'm fine."

I glance over at him and he doesn't look impressed, rather he looks angry.

"Don't lie to me." He nearly growls, and I flick my eyes to Leah, telling me to reign his shit in silently.

His eyes flare with annoyance and his hand comes up to rest on the back of my neck. He leans in close and when he's a hair away from my ear he says, in a sharp, clipped tone, "We'll be discussing this later."

I shrug out of his hold and try to say something around the lump in my throat but I can't so I just end up nodding. I knew that Paul was going to get this out of me but I didn't want him to. He was going to think that I was still the same insecure girl he first meant and probably just blow me off about it. At the same time though I wanted to know if my thoughts were true or if I was somehow wrong.

Lunch slides by and it is as though I am not even there. Paul and Leah end up making conversation and when the bell rings, signaling the end of our time I flinch. I didn't realize I had zoned out so thoroughly. We all stand and make our way to our separate classes. I am walking down the hallway when I feel a hot hand latch onto my wrist and stop me in my tracks.

"What's wrong?" Paul demands.

I look up and down the hallway and it's completely empty. I try and remove my wrist from his strong grip but he only tugs me closer.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit." Paul growls this time. "Don't lie, Isabella."

I scowl at my full name and raise my chin, looking him in the eye, "I'm not."

Paul chuckles darkly, "I can smell it."

A rock of dread slams against my gut and I let out my breath in a gust of air.

"I'm fine, Paul. Just leave it."

"No. We're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."

"We have classes to get to."

Paul's nostrils flair and a loud growl bursts forth from his chest.

"Fine. I'll meet you after school at your locker and we _will_ talk."

"Okay." I whisper and Paul releases my hand, staling off to class.

**P ~ B **

I approach my locker and find Paul leaning against the ones beside it. I am hesitant in my approach and when I reach him Paul's eyes are a mix of concern and annoyed. I am silent as I grab my things, shoving my text book for a class roughly in my bag. Paul doesn't ask me if anythings wrong again, he just waits for me and we head out after I am ready to go.

The walk to his car was foreshadowed the ride home - completely silence. I felt bad that I wasn't being forth coming with Paul - I demanded it form him yet I refused to do it myself. I knew that I had to talk to Paul about what I was feeling, if I didn't then not only would I be acquiring a double standard but I would be hurting our relationship. That was the last thing we did it.

With that in mind, once we walked into my house, I began to prepare myself to talk to Paul.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink?" I offer as I enter the kitchen.

"No." Paul snaps. "I want you to talk to me."

Even though I needed to, it was easier said than done. My reasons for being upset seemed so trivial and I feared that Paul was going to be disappointed with me. The lump forms in my throat again and I go to say something before close my mouth again.

I tense in my position of leaning against the counter when I feel him behind me. He wraps his arms around me and his head drops to my shoulder. I melt into his arms and he squeezes me tighter.

"Please," He mumbles into my hair. "Talk to me, baby-girl."

I bring my hand up to rest on his forearm wrapped around my waist, "It's silly."

"It isn't if it's upsetting you." He presses a kiss to my neck.

"I heard some girls talking while I was in the bathroom today."

"And?"

"And they made some comments that got me thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Paul growls, his hold loosening.

I turn to face him, and look into his eyes, "Why are you with me?"

Paul frowns. "What do you mean? I'm with you because I...I care about you."

"But you only care about me because of the Imprint, Paul. I mean, think about it - if it weren't for the Imprint then you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't want me, you wouldn't care about me, you wouldn't be holding me like this." My voice is detached and unfeeling as I speak and Paul's frown worsens.

"And this is why you're upset?"

I nod, whispering pathetically, "I just...you're not with me because you _want_ to be, but because you _have_ to be. It just, I don't know...you'll never like me on your own, you know?"

Paul cups my cheeks in his large palms, "Hey, don't think like that -"

"But its the truth!" I cut him off, my voice all warbled and thick.

"Bella," He says firmly. "I'm with you because _I_ want to be. Yeah, the Imprint draws me to you, and plays up certain urges but I care about you on my own. The Imprint makes me want you at first and causes me to be protective but any relationship we develop is ours. The Imprint doesn't make me like you or love you. The relationship we have his real."

I shake my head at him. "You're just saying that."

"No," He growls. "I'm not."

"Paul -"

He cuts me off, pressing a kiss to my lips. His lips are hot and demanding against mine and I don't have the heart to pull away. He presses me against the counter, hands gripping my hips as he sucks my lower lip into his mouth. I grip his shirt, clenching the fabric at his sides. I clench my eyes shut because even thought I want to, I can't seem to kiss him back. He kisses along my jaw, nibbling at the corner of it and whispers, his hot breath seeping into my skin, "I'm kissing you because _I_ want to."

My lower lip trembles and I feel weak as the tears well up.

I felt bad for him.

He was stuck with me.

He didn't have a choice.

He had to like me.

And my curves.

And my stretch marks.

And my soft skin.

They fall once his lips return to mine.

He tugs me closer and I can't breathe between the lump in my throat and his hot mouth.

I want to pull away and as if Paul senses this he cups the back of my head, tangling a hand in my hair as he holds me to him.

"Kiss me, damn it!" Paul growls against my lips.

I give in right there in then, pressing my lips against his the way I know he likes. I have tears running down my cheeks as I slide my trembling hand up into his hair. He slides his tongue along the seam of my lips and I open my mouth to him. He invades my mouth and all I can taste is him. I press closer and Paul wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me to him and moving so that I am pressed up against my refrigerator door. He pulls away, kissing down my neck. He returns to my lips before pressing his forehead to mine.

The moment feels incredibly intimate as we exchange our breaths.

He raises my hand to his chest, laying it on his heart.

"You feel that?" He presses my fingertips to his warm chest.

His heart thuds fast and hard under my shaking hand and I nod.

"It beats for you - _you_ make it like that. Not some fucking bond, you got that?"

I nod breathlessly, trying to draw my hand away but he won't have it.

"Say it." He growls, pressing closer so his chest is smashed to mine.

He crashes his lips to mine, devouring them before pulling away, "Say it."

"I do that." I whisper, pressing my lips to his, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He kisses me back eagerly but he is so tender, so sweet every time his lips touch mine. Paul cups my cheeks with both of his hands as he presses one last firm kiss to my lips. My eyes are still closed when he pulls away and he brushes his thumbs gently against my temples, "If you want to be here for me - you gotta let me be there for you, Bella."

"I know." I open my eyes to him.

I press closer to him, wrapping my arms around his waist tightly and resting my head on his broad chest. He drops his hands from their position and wraps them tightly around me.

"I'm sorry I was acting so dumb today."

He presses a kiss the crown of my head. "Don't worry about it - I acted dumb for months."

I laugh lightly and Paul runs a hand through my hair, playing with the strands. We stand there, holding each other for a few moments, and I am hit with a sudden warmness in my heart. I didn't know how to describe it - I had felt it before when I was around Paul, however, this time, it was much greater, much bigger. My heart was swelling, ballooning inside of my ribcage and I drew in a shaky breath. I didn't know what was happening with me anymore.

He was the first thing I thought of in the morning.

He was the last thing I thought of before going to sleep.

Every step I took seemed to lead me to him.

When he wasn't around it hurt.

Like there was some cord between us that kept pulling me back to him.

Was this what it felt like?

When you were falling for someone?

That thought stuck with me throughout the evening. Every time I looked over at Paul it was the only thing that filtered through - pushing forward against all the other thoughts. I didn't know the answer to it though. Paul was the first boy ever to take any interest in me romantically and then there was the factor of the Imprint. Was I falling for Paul or was it merely the urges the Imprint put in place? I may not know now, but I couldn't wait to find out.

It was still the only thing I could think of now, laying on my bed, using his chest as a pillow. One thing I liked about Paul and I was the fact that we didn't need to talk while we were together. We could be quiet or talk, but we didn't need to feel the silence with useless chatter. We were comfortable around each other.

"My mom wants to meet you." Paul blurts out.

"What?" I sit up quickly and my neck snaps towards him.

"My mom wants to meet you." He repeats slowly, as if talking to a fiver year old.

"Yes," I roll my eyes. "I heard you...I was just caught off guard."

"Does it make you nervous?"

I wasn't going to lie. It did make nervous, the thought of meeting Paul's Mom. What if she didn't like me? What if I didn't make a good first impression? Or what if she thought I'm not good enough for Paul?

"A little, yeah." I lay back down, glancing at him briefly.

He chuckles, "You've go nothing to worry about, Swan."

"Yeah, says you." I snort. "You're not the one meeting a parent."

Paul shakes his head at me, trying to a hide his smile.

I let out a big sigh, my lips flapping and making that horse-like sound. "When does she want to meet me?"

"Uh, tomorrow? She wants you to come over for dinner."

My gut clenches, jumping with nerves at how soon tomorrow is. I draw my lower lip into my mouth, tucking it between my teeth as I begin to nervously bite at it.

"Should I wear something special?"

"Bella, you're meeting my Mom, relax."

"I know, I just, I want to make a good impression."

"She will like you just as much as I do."

"Oh, then I am really in trouble," I joke. "You didn't exactly like me at first."

Paul growls loudly and I look over at him, alarmed.

"I was making a joke, Paul."

"I know. I just don't like thinking about it."

I roll over onto my side and look him over. His jaw is tensed, the tendons in his neck straining with his anger.

"Paul, I forgive you for it, you know that right?" I whisper, reaching out and brushing the tips of my fingers down his forearm.

He jerks it away from me, sitting up and turning away so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back turned to me.

"You shouldn't though."

"And why not?"

"Because what I did was..."

"Was what?"

"Was less than you deserve."

I remain silent for a few moments before speaking.

"Paul, what you did really hurt me. I won't lie about that - you really fucked with me. But you also made me stop and think; you made me face a lot of things. You helped me develop a backbone and confidence. I wouldn't say I support your methods, but they worked."

I lean over, hugging him from behind. My arms are wrapped loosely around him, draped across his chest. I lay my head in the crook of his neck and murmur agains his hot skin, "You have to believe me when I say that."

He nods and wraps his hand around my wrist, gently brushing his thumb along the inside of it.

"I know. I do."

I press a kiss to his neck. "Good."

We remain in that position for a very long time before he finally turns to me, drawing me into his lap, cradling me there.

"Paul?"

"Yeah, Swan?"

"You know how before, you said you cared about me?"

"Yes."

"I care about you too."

**P ~ B **

It was the next morning, and for once my mother was home. I could hear her moving about the kitchen, muttering to herself, opening and closing cabinets. I felt nervous and tense as I walked out of my room and down the hallway. I didn't know why she was home this late - usually she was up and out the door before me, even on a school day when I woke up at six thirty in the morning. Today was a Saturday and it was ten o'clock; usually on the weekend my mother was at her office or away. I peak into my parent's bedroom and note that my father isn't around either. They must have gotten into a fight because that's the only time when my mother stayed home.

I walk down the stairs and once I reach the kitchen my stomach is an angry ball of nerves. My mother looks up from the newspaper she is reading, briefly glances at me and returns her attention to the material in her hands. The act stings and I want to ask her why she does this to me.

My mother doesn't say anything until I've grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and a spoon from utensil drawer.

"Mrs. Smith told me something interesting this morning."

I hated the tone she used.

She made the simple statement sound like an accusation.

It grated against my skin and ears.

Mrs. Smith was my neighbor, a batty old woman who was far too nosy. She prided herself on knowing everyone's business. She was incorrigible.

"Yeah?" I respond, trying to keep my voice light, like I did whenever my mother confronted me about my weight or how I spent my time - apparently I should be at the gym, not doing school work, according to her.

My mother commented on my weight a lot when I was younger. That's probably why I was so sensitive to it when Paul made that comment to me about it all those months ago. But my mother stopped doing it once I was well into my teens; I guess she just gave up or something.

"She told me that she saw you and a boy on our front porch late last night." Her tone is cold, but I recognized the anger that was sitting under the surface immediately.

My stomach drops to my feet and my lungs shrink down until it feels like their barely there.

"Mom -"

"What's wrong with you? Do you want to look like some cheap slut?"

Anger blazes through me, from my gut and up my chest. I spin around, "I'm a slut because I was seen on the porch with a boy? Oh heaven forbid mother!"

"Well it's not like a boy would be with you for your looks, Isabella!" My mother slams the newspaper onto the counter. "You've got to be doing _something_ for him!"

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, "That _boy_ likes me just the way I am, Mother! I don't whore myself out to keep him around!"

"Tears won't convince me, young lady." My mother snaps at me.

"Why are you being like this?" I demand, my lower lip trembling.

My mother clenches her jaw, pinching the bridge of her nose. She takes in a deep breath, grabs her briefcase at her feet and walks out.

I watch her go and it's with the slam of the door that my tears fall. I wipe at them quickly. God, I hate her sometimes, I think to myself. I knew that I didn't hate my Mother - but she made it so hard to like her when she behaved this way.

I wipe my cheeks to get rid of the tears only to have them replaced anew. Her words play in my mind like a record and I let out a strangled sound. I think back to all the times as a kid that she got on me about my weight and it becomes too much for me. I crumple in on myself and try to ignore the memories that come forth.

"_Isabella, you're going away this summer." My mother says, briefly taking her eyes off the road. _

"_Where?" I ask, becoming excited. All my friends went away to camps and went on trips during their summers. All I did was go to my grandmothers because I was too young to stay home alone - according to my Mom. She was always away working, just like Daddy. _

"_To a special camp." _

"_A special camp?" _

"_Yes. It helps girls loose weight." _

"_Why do I need to loose weight?" _

"_Because your fat, Isabella." My mother snaps at me. _

I was nine when she sent me to fat camp. I lost weight, but not enough, according to my Mother. I had always been a bigger girl and my Mother couldn't seem to understand that.

She tried everything.

"_Mom, why can't I have spaghetti like you and Dad?" _

"_Too many carbs. Eat your salad." _

"_What if I don't want to?" _

"_Then go hungry." _

I was eleven.

I went to bed hungry. The salad wasn't all that filling.

My mother eventually gave up on me, that's when she started working like she did now. That's when she started missing dinners and parent teacher interviews. My Dad had never really been in the picture, he left the parenting, or lack there of, to my Mom.

I am still crying when the phone rings. I take in a deep breath and hope that my voice won't give away that I've been crying.

"Hello?" I pick the phone up and my voice doesn't crack, thank goodness.

"Hey, baby-girl," Paul greets and all of a sudden the flood gates re-open and the tears begin to fall, harder than ever. "My mom just wanted to know if you were allergic to anything, she's about to go out and by stuff for dinner tonight."

"N-no," I sniffle and try to talk around the lump in my throat. "I'm fine with whatever."

"Bella," Paul's voice is low and loaded. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I say, but my voice is all warbled and thick, clearly announcing that something is wrong.

"What happened?" He demands.

"Nothing," I hiccup. "It's j-just...my Mom."

"I'm on my way over."

**P ~ B**

He doesn't knock when he gets to my house. He just walks in and finds me in the kitchen with swollen, red eyes, a snotty nose and a blotchy face. Paul takes one look at me, his eyes softening before pulling me into his arms. I couldn't help it when I clung to him like a small child, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and squeezing him tight. I press my face into his chest.

"What did she do to you?" Paul growls.

I press closer and shake my head. Sighing he picks me up with surprising ease, carrying me bridal style and walks me into the living room. He settles us on the couch and we're a jumbled, entangled mess of limbs but I don't care.

"You didn't have to come over here, you know." I mumble into the crook of his neck.

He kisses my temple. "I know."

"It's not anything new. She just..."

"She just what?"

"Before I tell you what happened there's something you need to know about my Mother," I pull back and look him in the eye. "My Mother has always had an issue with my weight."

Paul lets out a low growl, a scowl on his face.

I take his hand in mine, squeezing it, "And ever since I was a kid she's been making her opinion known. When I was nine she sent me to fat camp. She monitored my meals, and for a long while I was on an involuntary diet. She was always making comments, always criticizing and eventually, when she wasn't seeing the results she wanted, she began to work more. She ignored me. She's been avoiding me or ignoring me ever since I was thirteen."

Paul lets out the most angry sound, a violent growl as he demands, "Where the fuck was your Dad during all of this?"

"He left the parenting to my Mom and just didn't do anything." I whisper, dropping my eyes from his.

"So what happened this morning?"

"My mom heard from my neighbor that you were here last night and basically said that no one would ever want to be with me because I'm fat and that was whoring myself out to keep you around."

My voice cracks on the word whoring, and I choke out the rest of the words. Paul hugs me closer, "Oh, Bella."

"Why can't she love me just the way I am?" I sob.

Paul holds me, rocking me back and forth, and lets me break down in his arms. I cry and cry for who knows how long but Paul holds me the hold time. Eventually my tears calm, and my breathing evens out. I feel ashamed for breaking down like I did and hide my face in my hands.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, moving to get out of his arms.

Paul lets out a growl, drawing me in closer. I feel awkward and uncomfortable in the embrace now and my limbs are tense and stiff. I broke down about my weight; it was pathetic - I was pathetic. People out there lived with worse than I, and yet here I was, complaining over something as trivial as my weight.

"Look at me." Paul demands, shifting me in his lap so I'm facing him.

I stare at the wall behind his head.

"Look at _me_, baby." Paul grasps my face in his large palms, his fingers sliding into my hair, forcing me to look him in the eye.

"I'm going to say something," He states, his voice firm. "And you're going to listen."

"Okay." I nod.

"You are beautiful."

I immediately feel uncomfortable, not believing him. I shake my head.

"You are, baby-girl. Inside and out. Your Mother can go fuck herself because, honestly, you're the best looking girl I know."

"Paul," I whimper. "Don't."

He releases my face and grabs my hand.

He places a kiss on my palm, "I love your hands. They're small and soft. They fit perfectly with mine."

His hand slides up from my left hand, cupping my elbow. He places a kiss on the crook of my elbow, "I love your arms. They wrap around me and hold me tight."

I feel his breath on my chest next and a kiss to where my heart lays follows. "I love your heart. So strong and pure."

Paul's touch travels up to my neck, and he presses a kiss there to, "Your neck is perfect for my kisses - it curves just the right way."

A smile is tugging on my lips as he moves on.

I feel a kiss on the shell of my ear. "I love your ears. They always listen to me and perfect to whisper dirty things into."

I giggle when he says that.

I feel a kiss on my cheek. "Your cheeks are soft and full - I love them."

His lip brush my temple, and I feel them press against my forehead next. "Your mind is beautiful. I love how smart you are and thank goodness for that, I need someone to call me out."

My eyes are closed by now and I feel him place a kiss on each eye lid.

"Your eyes are what I look to first. They tell me everything."

I feel his breath on my lips.

"I adore your lips. So soft and made for me to kiss."

I feel his lips on mine, soft and gentle as they make their greeting. I kiss him back, trying to thank him and I hope he feels my gratitude. Paul wasn't normally this mushy and I knew it was talking a lot for him to open up like this to me. I wrap my arms around his neck and all too soon he pulls away.

I feel his mouth at my ear next as he traces my curves.

"I _love_ your curves. I get hard just thinking about them."

I blush.

"See? Your ears are perfect for whispering into."

I laugh, throwing my head back.

I feel him grip my hips, "I love your hips. I swear they were made with me in mind."

His hands land on my ass next, squeezing gently. "I love your ass. This too was made with me in mind."

I am smiling from ear to ear as his hands slide down my thighs, "I love your legs; shapely and long. I can't wait to have them wrapped around my waist."

"Paul!" I laugh.

"It's true."

I shake my head at him and he smirks at me.

"You shake your head, but everything I've said is true, baby girl," He presses his forehead to mine. "I like you just he way you are. I wouldn't change a thing."

I am overwhelmed with the warmth in my heart and I cup his face in my small but soft hands, "Thank you, Paul."

He holds me to him again, winding his arms around my waist. My head is laid on his shoulder and I close my eyes, keeping my arms around his neck.

"I like you just the way you are too," I murmur and I know he hears me. "I wouldn't change a thing."

"Good," He laughs. "You're stuck with me."

I pull back so I can see his face and marvel at how gorgeous he is. It's gotta be a sin for him to look this good. I take in how perfectly structured his face is; the arched cheek bones and straight nose. I tentatively trace the contours of his face, following the slope of his nose and his eyebrows. I follow the line of his jaw that ends in a perfect chin and I run my thumb along his lower lip, full but not feminine. He watches me with those deep brown eyes that look black and unexpectedly his tongue swipes out, catching my digit. I shake my head at him, drawing my thumb away. He smirks - that sidelong smirk that gets my heart pounding and my gut clenching.

"Thank you," I whisper again, so quietly that I fear he might not hear me. "I know you find it hard to open up like that...but thank you. You've been so good to me the past few days; dealing with all my emotional crap."

Paul presses a kiss to my lips, taking my upper lip in between his. I melt into him, sliding my hands into his hair and kiss him back.

**P ~ B**

Later that day I find myself in Paul's car, dressed to impress and heading for his place to meet his mother. I had never been more nervous over something; worries flitted about my mind and my insides felt restless with anxiety. I roll down the window, knowing I was beginning to perspire. I wiggle my toes in my flats and run my hands up and down my best pair of jeans. Paul's hand comes down over one of mine, halting its move up my thigh, "Relax, baby."

I smile at him, lacing my fingers through his.

My stomach was a contorted mess of nerves and at my throat when we pulled up to his house. Half me was glad we were here - that my anxieties could be put to rest as I was about to meet his mom - ad the other half was wondering if turning back around and going to my place was an option.

I feel Paul's eyes on me and I turn in my seat to look at him. I inhale shakily, my eyes flitting back to his house. He gently cups my cheek, "Don't be nervous."

"What if she doesn't like me?" I gnaw on my lower lip.

"And what if she likes you?" He counters, eyebrows raised.

I nod, "You're right, you're right."

"Always am." He says cheekily, hopping out of the car.

I follow suit and he grabs my hand as we walk towards his house. We reach the door and Paul opens it, all the while still holding my hand, and calls out, "Ma?"

"Just a minute!" Paul's mother, or who I assume to be Paul's mother, calls from the kitchen.

Paul walks us over to the living room and we both sit down. He places his arm on the back of the couch where I'm sitting and I exhale loudly. He leans over and whispers, "Your heart is beating so fast right now, Swan; relax."

He kept on telling me to relax but I couldn't seem to do it. I was just so god damned nervous.

Paul's mother walks into the room and the first thing I notice is her long black hair; it nearly reaches her hips. Paul stands and I do too, finally looking her in the eye. They were lighter than Paul's, almost hazel but open and warm. I noticed tiny wrinkles at the corners of them, her only real sign of her age. She wasn't skinny, but she wasn't my size either, she was somewhere caught in between. She wore a long peasant skirt and a loose blouse with a thick belt circling her waist.

"Ma, this is my Bella." Paul says quietly, his voice low but fill of pride.

I look up at him, smiling.

"So, this is the young woman who stole my boy's heart." She says, her voice sweet.

"Ma..." Paul groans.

"What?" She smiles. "It's true."

I chuckle quietly, and say, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine dear." She says, pulling me into a hug.

I am shocked for a moment and am completely still before I tentatively return the hug. She squeezes me tight and all my nerves are eased; the woman was hugging me - that's gotta mean something, right?

She pulls away, holding onto my biceps as she looks me over.

"Paul has good taste. You're stunning."

I laugh nervously, "You're too kind."

"Nope." She says. "Just honest."

She releases me, smiling, and it is only now that I notice that she has bags under her eyes. They are quite subtle, barely noticeable but there nonetheless. She must be missing Paul's father as much as Paul did. My heart clenched for her, I can only imagine how hard it is for her.

"Well," Paul's mother claps her hands together, "Dinner is nearly ready, so if you'd like to take a seat in the dining room, go on ahead."

She disappears into the kitchen then and Paul guides me into the dining room with his hand on the small of my back. We take our seats and Paul asks, "Still nervous?"

"Not as much as before." I curl my hair behind my ear.

Paul's mother enters then carrying a salad bowl, and I offer to help her bring in the rest of the dinner but she hushes me, insisting that I am the guest. Soon everything is on the table and she joins us. I am putting my plate together when she begins to ask the typical questions.

"So, Bella, how is school? Paul tells me you're quite the smart young lady."

I blush, glancing at Paul from the corner of my eye before answering, "I'm doing well; A's across the board."

"Any plans for after high school?"

"I don't really know. Definitely University, but I don't really know what I want to do. Gosh, I must sound horribly typical." I fiddle around with my fork, feeling embarrassed that I came off as some clueless girl with no sense of direction or future.

She laughs, "Oh, dear! Don't worry, I was merely curious. I know I didn't have a clue what I wanted to do when I was your age!"

The questions proceed on from there and by the time she leaves the room to grab desert, my nerves are non-existent.

"Sorry about all the questions," Paul mutters.

I grab his hand under the table that's resting on his leg and say, "No worries."

She returns then with a chocolate cake and proceeds to cut pieces for everyone. Once we're all settled she begins to tell me stories about Paul - much to his embarrassment.

"I remember, one time, Paul was about five," She begins to laugh, struggling to get the story out. "And he had done something to make me angry, and I was disciplining him as I was doing the dishes. I had my back to him and there was a mirror on the wall in front of me, so I could see Paul. He was mimicking me and I told him I had eyes in the back of my head and for him to never do that again -"

Paul groans loudly, "Come on, Ma, enough already."

"Oh hush, you bear, Bella seems quite interested, doesn't she?" She looks over at me, her eyes dancing with mirth.

"I would like to hear the end of the story." I chuckle and Paul just shake shakes head, muttering something under his breath.

"What did you say, young man?" Paul's Mom demands, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," He says, his voice saccharine-sweet. "Just reflecting on my love for you."

It was funny to watch how they interacted, but even far more amusing to watch how his mom could reign him in so easily.

"_Anyway_," Paul's mother resumes her story. "A few days later I was doing some work and I feel Paul's hand sifting through my hair, parting it at the back of my head. I asked him what he was doing and he said that he was looking for the eyes because no one would believe him at school!"

I let out a loud laugh and Paul's mother does the same. Eventually our laughter dies down and Paul's grumbling stops as well. Paul's mom moves to take our plates into the kitchen but I grab mine, Paul follows and we all head into the kitchen.

"We'll wash and clean up, since you made us dinner." I offer.

"Oh no! You're the guest here!" She insists.

"Please? It's the least we can do." I smile at her.

She laughs, "Alright!"

As she walks by Paul she says, "Keep this one around - I like her."

She leaves and I smile widely at her comment. I turn to the sink, setting the plates down on the counter next to it with the others. Paul joins me, "You wash, I'll dry."

We begin and I am washing my second plate when Paul says, "She really means that, you know. She likes you."

"I'm glad. I like her too." I hand him my plate and he begins to dry it.

**P ~ B **

A few days later Paul and I are in his bedroom and things were getting pretty hot. They had heated up fast; Paul was loosing control when it came to his urges. I was feeling so much and all at once; excitement, nervousness, and a whole bunch of other things.

He is over top of me, his mouth on mine and nestled between my thighs. My legs relax, widening so he has more room; he relaxes, his body now pinning me to the bed. I feel his hardness against my thigh and my hips arch up off the bed, seeking friction. A low growl sounds out from Paul when I do so and he commands, "Again."

I do as told and grip onto his broad shoulders for leverage. Paul growls again, capturing my lips in a violent kiss. It's demanding and dominating and I can't help myself when I moan into his mouth. I had never been kissed this way - he had never kissed me like this. He threads a hand into my hair, tugging on it, angling my head so he can kiss me much more deeply. I am running out of oxygen but I don't seem to care - not when his lips are on mine like this and his hips are pressed to my own.

I wrench my mouth away from his, gasping for air and whimpering when he moves his hips _just right_ and hits that spot. He begins to kiss my neck, planting kisses downwards, and nips at my collarbone when he reaches it. I pull at his shirt, "Off."

He obliges me, taking his shirt off and tossing it across the room. My hands explore his exposed skin, tracing his muscles. He growls into my mouth and I am just noticing how frequent they are but they are hot and only increase the throbbing ache between my legs. I arch my neck when he drags his teeth along the juncture between it and my shoulder, providing him with more space.

Our hips are moving wantonly against one another's and the ache is becoming more and more intense with each meeting of our hips. I'm so focused on the lower half of my body that I miss Paul's hand moving to the edges of my shirt and tugging upwards. I immediately stiffen and freeze. Paul's lips pull away from my neck, where I am sure he was giving me a hickey, and he looks my face over, panting, "What's wrong?"

I feel silly and stupid but I didn't know if I wanted him to see me with my shirt off. I hid a lot under my clothes - my stretch marks, for one, never mind my stomach. I drop my eyes from his and fumble, "I-I, um..."

"If you're not comfortable with me taking your shirt off, I won't."

"It's not that, I just," I panted. "What if you don't like what you see?"

Paul looks at me with raised eyebrows, "Babe, I can guarantee I will like what I see."

I nibble on my lower lip and my stomach flips.

What if he didn't?

He presses a kiss to my lips, capturing my lower lip between his own. He runs his tongue along it, soothing my treatment of it prior.

"Please, baby-girl," He murmurs against my lips, playing with the hem of my shirt. "Please."

I groan, feeling my resolve slip. I didn't feel pressured by Paul - I knew that if I said no, he would back off and wouldn't force me.

He kisses along my jawline, nibbling at the corner and whispering into my ear, "Please let me see you, Bella."

I inhale shakily, nodding my head, "Okay."

His lips return to mine quickly before he pulls off my shirt.

I can feel my heart thudding in my chest.

My lungs shrink.

I clench my eyes shut and wait for the verdict.

A loud growl reaches my ears and my eyes open in an instant to see Paul staring down at my chest with something I was unfamiliar with...lust? He stares for a few more moments before crashing his lips to mine and pressing his chest against mine. I hiss at the contact and Paul takes this moment to slip his tongue inside my mouth. I weave a hand into his hair and groan when I feel Paul's hot hand climbing up my torso.

The feel of his hot touch on my skin is hard to describe, but I get goose bumps and my heart knocks against my chest in rapid succession. His thumb brushes the underside of my breast and he smirks against my mouth when I gasp. He moves his lips from mine and his hand cups it and my back arches, pressing closer. I draw my legs up and Paul growls loudly. He inhales deeply and his growl increases in volume - fuck, I forgot about that; he could smell my arousal.

He brutally thrusts his hips and I cry out, my nails digging into his back. Just as I buck my hips against his he freezes and sits up onto his knees. His head is cocked to the side, as if listening to something or for something. I watch in confusion and draw myself up on my elbows, "Paul?"

"Sh," He growls.

I scowl at him but remain quiet as ordered.

Paul gets up, his jeans hanging low on his hips as he moves towards his window. He takes in another deep breath, "We've got company."

"Who?"

"Sam," Paul growls, his lip curling. "And a few of the others."

He grabs his shirt off the ground and tosses it over to me, "Put this on. They're almost here."

I catch the shirt and wonder where my own is; I don't see it so I shrug his simple black T-Shirt on. Since Paul is so big, the shirt is loose on me and hit my mid thighs. He so wasn't getting this shirt back.

He tugs up his pants and he's growling extremely loudly as he stares out the window.

"Paul," I snap. "Enough already."

He growls at me this time, looking annoyed. I roll my eyes, getting up off the bed and following him as he leaves the room - still growling. As we walk down the stairs his sounds quiet to a point where you can't really hear it. He walks to the back door and opens it roughly before stepping out. He stands on the back porch with his arms crossed and I watch as the muscles under his skin ripple. He was fighting the urge to Phase. I lay my palm on his back, "What's going on?"

"They're on my turf. My territory." He jerks away and I huff - this boy was truly insufferable.

I am about to say something when I see four guys emerge from the forest, one walking just ahead - Sam. I look at the rest of them and identify Embry, Quil and Jacob. Paul moves closer to me and grabs my hand, drawing me behind him partially as if to say that I'm his.

Paul looks down at me and mumbles, "I can't help it right now. I'm all instinct."

I nod and remain standing behind him.

Sam, Embry, Quil and Jacob reach us and Sam nods at Paul as a sign of respect I would assume. Paul grunts, nodding back at him.

"What do you want?" Paul demands, growling.

"It's come to the Council's attention that there are two Alphas in La Push," Sam begins, crossing his arms over his chest. "And they aren't pleased."

"So what?"

"I am lifting my ban that has forced you to go rogue." Sam states, his voice taking on a new timbre.

I glance over at Paul and he shudders. I scowl, confused at what is taking place.

"What if I don't want to be apart of the Pack?" Paul demands.

"Too bad." Sam states. "In lifting the band I have reestablished that link of the Pack to you."

Paul lets out a ferocious growl, the angriest I've ever heard from him.

"Paul," Sam reprimands. "Submit."

Paul growls defiantly, snarling at Sam. "No."

"_Submit_, pup."

"No."

"You remember what happens to Pack members that don't submit, Paul." Sam says but it sounds like a warning more than a statement.

"Bella, go in the house." Paul says, not looking at me.

"No." I whisper. "What's going on?"

My stomach is clenching nervously, flip flopping and I think I might be sick. Something bad was about to happen.

"Go. In. The. House." Paul orders.

I step back into the house and stand out of sight, still listening to the conversation.

"I _will_ beat you into submission if I have to, Paul."

I hear another growl but it is cut off. I inch closer to the sliding glass door and peek out from my position and gasp at what I see. Paul his being forced to kneel by Embry and Jacob while Sam quite literally beats him. I hear a lupine whimper of pain when Sam back hands Paul and something inside me snaps. I am out the door before I can stop myself.

"Stop it!" I launch myself at Sam.

He growls and grabs hold of my arms that are encircling his neck, tossing me off of him roughly, "Contain her."

I hit the ground with a thud, the air knocked out of me and I hear Paul roar in anger. I try to stand again but I feel two arms wrap around my waist. I cry out, struggling against the hold on me and sob when I see Sam knee Paul in the ribs. I swear I hear a crack. I fight against the arms detaining me violently, "Stop it!"

My eyes are watery and I can't see anything but I hear Paul's sounds of pain and it's enough to rip my heart open.

"Paul!" I howl through my sobs, kicking at Quil's legs. "No! _Stop it_!"

I don't know for how long the beating goes on but I am screaming and sobbing for them to stop it. Everything feels like it is happening in slow motion and I can't hear anything but my sobs and his cries of pain. I had never felt more sick in my life, my stomach churns violently when I see Paul on his back, looking battered and broken. Quil's hold slackens on me for a moment and I fall to the ground, sputtering for air through my sobs. I hear him groan and I scream when Sam kicks him in the ribs. Paul coughs, blood on his lips.

Sam is heaving from the exertion and he looks down at Paul who has gone still. I lurch forward but Quil grabs me again, "Sh, Bella, sh."

"Get off of me!" I shriek, and jab him with my elbow. He grunts but keeps his hold.

"Release her." Sam says tiredly and I run over to Paul.

I drop to my knees beside him and let out a violent sob when I take in his unconscious form. I run my fingers along the bruising on his chest and take in his blood caked face. A violent rage fills me when I feel Sam's hand on my shoulder, "It had to be done."

I jerk away from his touch.

"Get the fuck away from me, you monster." I seethe.

Everything is still around me for a few moments and I can feel their eyes on me.

"Is there anything that can be done for him?" I sniffle, trying to stop my voice from cracking and failing.

**P ~ B**

Turns out, a lot could be done for Paul.

Sam took him back to his place, the Pack following, and the Pack Doctor was alerted of the situation. Once Paul was laid out in Sam's guest room the Doctor saw him and did what he could. By the time he was finished Paul's torso was wrapped to help his ribs heal - Sam had broken nearly all of them. I was told that werewolves healed extremely quickly and that Paul was going to be good as new within a day or two but the process of healing was quite painful in incidents like these.

After the Doctor left I was back by Paul's side, holding his hand and waiting for him to wake up. I looked him over - his face was swollen and he was sporting a nasty black eye. He had bruising all over, the majority hid by his bandages. I felt my eyes welling up with tears as I kissed the back of his hand.

"Hey," I heard someone say and I looked towards the sound of the voice. It was Jacob and he was holding a plate with a sandwich on it. I scowl at him and turn my attention back to Paul.

"I know you probably hate us all right now...but that's just the way things are in La Push. We're very, uh, traditional." Jacob states, offering me the sandwich.

"I'm not hungry."

Jacob leaves the sandwich despite my declaration and my attention returns to Paul. I glance at the clock, it was only four o'clock. How had this day become so fucked up? I shake my head at the situation and try not to get upset. I hated them all so much right now. What the hell did tradition have to do with beating the shit out of someone? I wanted nothing more than to march down the stairs and into the kitchen where they were all gathered and lay into them. I was angry and hurt - for Paul and myself.

"Don't cry." I hear Paul rasp.

"Paul!" I nearly shout and move to wrap my arms around him but I stop myself for fear of hurting him.

"I'm bruised not broken." Paul mutters.

I immediately wrap my arms around him then and press my lips to his. He groans when my grip around him tightens and I pull back, "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, baby-girl." He closes his eyes for another moment or two.

I feel the tears running down my cheeks and I try to keep quiet as I cry.

"Bella," Paul sighs. "I'm okay."

"I-I was s-so scared-d, P-Paul," I choke out through my tears, stuttering. "I kept telling them t-to stop but they wouldn't."

"I know. I could hear you."

I let out a whimper as I remember watching Sam beat Paul.

"Help me out, sweet girl," Paul requests as he struggles to sit up. "I want to get out of here."

I help him sit up and he uses me as crutch when he stands. I could have been an actual crutch due to our height ratios but Paul leaned on me with each step, wincing as we inched forward.

"Why did they do this to you?" I whisper.

"Because," Paul grunts, stepping forward. "I was refusing to submit to my Alpha and it's a long standing tradition, or rather, method of dealing with rebellious Pack members - you beat the message into them."

Anger flares inside of me and it only grows as Paul struggles down the stairs, even with my help. We get to the bottom and I can hear them all in the kitchen talking quietly. All conversation comes to a hush when we step in.

I take in each and everyone of them - disgust churning in my gut. Emily and Kim stand by their respective partners, eyes cast downwards. Once my eyes reached Sam I wanted nothing more than to beat him like he had beat my Paul. I wanted him to suffer. Sam meets my gaze and my lip curls up into a snarl.

"Control your mate, Paul." Sam orders.

Paul growls. "Leave her be. How do you think Emily would be right now if I had beat the shit out of you? Oh wait, I did, and she glared at Bella and I for months straight."

"Need a reminder of whose Alpha, Paul, so soon?" Sam raises his eyebrows.

"You son of a bitch," I screech, lurching forward but Paul grabs me and holds me back.

"Simmer down, Swan." Paul growls at me and I let out a huff of anger.

Sam chuckles and I had never thought him to be such an asshole. I remember seeing Paul with him and his Pack before we became involved and they always looked so happy. Were they really though? Or was I just buying into how they had been presenting themselves?

"You can begin your patrols as soon as you heal completely." Sam says and it feels like a dismissal.

Paul stands up a bit straighter, "I have a proposition for you, Uley."

Sam's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "You do? And what might it be?"

"I challenge your position. It is stated that any Pack member can challenge the Alpha."

"A challenge? You wish to fight me for my position?"

Paul nods, jaw clenched.

Nerves dance in my belly at the thought of Paul fighting Sam.

"Do you realize a challenge, such as this, is to the death?" Sam stands, eyeing Paul.

"I'm aware."

My stomach jumps.

To the death?

"I accept."

**A/N: So...what did you all think? **

**Understand why Bella is so insecure? **

**Liking Paul? **

**What do you think of Sam now? **

**Who do you want to win the "challenge"? **

**Favourite part(s)? **

**I hope you all enjoyed this extremely late chapter.  
**

**Playlist: **

**You and Me - Penny and the Quarters**

**Wonderwall - Ryan Adams (Oasis cover)**

******Do You Wanna Touch Me? - Joan Jett and the Blackhearts **

**Dog Days - Florence + The Machine **

**Until next time readers!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: This is overdue, I know. **

**It's taking me longer and longer to push out chapters because of writer's block. I can't seem to shake it. Hopefully it'll pass. **

**Hope y'all enjoy.**

**R&R**

**Disclaimer: It's all S.M's, I'm just playing in her sandbox. **

**White Blank Page **

**Chapter 14: Hysteric**

I couldn't believe that Paul was going to fight Sam for his position. I thought that it was unwise and almost asking for suicide but I didn't tell Paul any of this. He was so convinced that he could beat Sam - so sure that he was the one that would walk away. I wasn't. I was scared for Paul for so many reasons; one of them being that I didn't think he was going to be able to beat Sam. Paul, while he was big, almost as big as Sam, was wild. He was savage and let his rage control him - how was he going to beat Sam without any strategy? How was he going to do it, if he never thought before he acted?

It had been a week since Paul had issued his challenge. They had scheduled it for the upcoming Saturday.

I had one day left.

That may even be my last with Paul.

I had one day to memorize the curve of his smile.

I had one day to commit to memory the sound of his laugh.

I had one day to memorize the way his lips felt on mine.

I had one day.

Paul wasn't thinking along the lines I was. He didn't appear nervous or even worried about the fact that he may not be here in one day. I didn't know whether this was merely a defence mechanism for him or if he truly was not worried. I didn't know which was better.

"Baby-girl?" I hear, and my mind surfaces, coming into the present.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

I smile weakly, "Just thinking."

I didn't know what to do with Paul. Part of me wanted to hold him close and never let him go because I wasn't ready to end my time with him. I wasn't ready to let him go when I had just got him. I had realized, in just a short period of time, how very much in love I was with Paul. I knew I had been in love with him for a while, albeit, I thought I was falling - but I had already fallen; hopelessly. Another part of me knew that Paul needed to do this and to even suggest otherwise or try to persuade him from not doing this was asinine.

We were in the school library, working on our respective school work. Or at least he was. I was too busy mulling over the current subject of my thoughts. I had probably read the same sentence about fifteen times in my history textbook. I try to refocus but my mind wanders back to Paul.

I stare off into space and let my mind continue to run in circles.

Paul snaps his fingers in front of my face.

"Swan," Paul hisses. "What's up with you?"

"Huh?" I return to the present, clueless. "Sorry, I mean, pardon?"

"Bella," Paul sighs. "What's going on? You've been zoning out all day."

I let out a sigh, "I'm just thinking, that's all. Got a lot on my mind."

"Care to share?"

"The challenge," I mutter under my breath.

"Bella, you've got nothing to worry about." Paul grabs my hand that was laying on the desk we are seated at.

"How can you be so sure?" I demand, almost glaring at him.

Paul rolls his eyes. "Just have a little faith. I'm going to be fine."

I let it drop and don't mention my worries for the rest of the day. I knew that it bothered Paul to no end that I was doubting his abilities. I didn't like to think that I was doubting him; but I was. I was angry that he had gambled something so precious and without a consideration to how it would affect those around him. What about me? What about his mother? What would we do without him?

By the time twilight rolls around I am a mess of emotions. Paul and I are sitting on his back porch. I take in the scene before me and the feel of the breeze dancing across my skin as I sit there. I am trying so very hard to enjoy the evening but all I can think of is the challenge. My insides are a mess; twisting and clenching at the thought of it.

I push it from my mind but it's like an elephant in the room. I know it's there and can't seem to forget it. I try everything - I think about a paper I have to write, think about the mess that my closet is, think about how I need a haircut, think about how I really need to think about my plans after high school. But none of it works.

I press further into Paul's side and he looks down at me, "Very affectionate this evening, Swan."

I keep quiet and merely tighten the hold I have on his waist. I didn't want to bring my worries up again; it wouldn't do anything other than to irk him and that was the last thing he needed at this point. I look at him and let out a small sigh.

"I don't know why you're so worried." Paul mutters, squeezing my shoulder.

I roll my eyes. "How can I not be? If you lose, Paul..."

"I won't."

"You don't know that!" I practically shriek, launching myself into a standing position.

I turn away from him, trying to reign myself in.

I feel his hand land tentatively on my shoulder and I let out a shuddering breath. I try to keep my voice steady as I speak.

"I just - I just got you, Paul and I'm not willing to let go...I -"

"I know." He cuts me off.

"No! You don't! You issued that challenge! You just gambled everything - you made a decision that I should have been party to!" I whirl around, anger practically oozing out of my pores.

"A decision you should have been party to?" Paul fixes me with a steely glare.

"Yes!" I nearly shout. "We're in a _relationship_, Paul! It involves _two_ people! Did you not think that your decision to risk your life would bother me?"

"You don't get it - I had to." He seethes.

"Bull shit! This is about your pride, if anything!"

Paul lets out a warning growl.

I step forwards, standing close. "What he did to you was wrong, Paul. But you won't be any better if you kill him."

Paul scoffs and shakes his head, stepping away from me and turning his back on me. The move stung and I looked away from the distance that seemed to have grown between us so quickly.

"You don't get it, Bella!" Paul growls. "In my world...he hurt you - he undermined me in front of my mate!"

After a long moment I speak again, swallowing all my insecurities.

My voice is a soft whisper stained with tears.

"The truth is, Paul," I wipe a lone tear away. "That I'm scared."

He turns to face me and his eyes soften once he sees my tears.

"You don't have to be." He pulls me into his arms.

"I do," I continue. "I don't know what I'll do if you -"

He crashes his lips to mine, grabbing hold of my head. It's rough and he is kind of pressing my ears flat to my head so I can't hear anything but the beat of my heart - but it's perfect. I open my mouth to him immediately and the kiss becomes needy and a confusing mixture of teeth and lips and tongues. I press close to him and wrap my arms around his neck but I'm still not close enough. I feel a yearning inside of me and I struggle to keep it at bay. He rips his mouth away from mine and presses his forehead to mine.

"You're not going to lose me."

He presses his lips to mine again and again and I lose my self in the moment. I sink my hands into the hair at the nape of his neck and run my tongue along his lower lip. His mouth opens to mine and my hands fist in his hair. A delicious heat is building inside of me - from my head to my toes. He does nothing to cool it by pressing me up against the wall of his house and getting oh so very close.

He pulls his mouth away from mine, "Upstairs?"

My gut jumps nervously and I nod - feeling thankful that his mother was away for the weekend, visiting a friend.

I follow Paul into the house and we kiss and stumble our way through it. By the time we reach the stairs I am pressed up against the wall. My hands are exploring the skin underneath his shirt and his fingers are hooked into my belt loops, tugging me closer. I slide my fingers into his belt loops, guiding him up the stairs and he smirks following my lead.

We reach his bedroom and Paul sits down on his bed. I linger in the space by the door, noticing how the atmosphere is less frenzied and calmer. I am nibbling on my lower lip, taking in his delicious form when he peels off his shirt and crooks his finger at me. My gut clenches and the air in my lungs hitches. I move forward, standing in between his legs.

Paul slides his hands up my legs,stopping at my hips and squeezing them.

"Hey." He says, his voice deep and husky

"Hey." I whisper, sliding my hands through his hair.

I lean in and press my lips to his. He pulls me forward so that I am forced to straddle him on the bed and slides his tongue along my lower lip. I open my mouth to him and let him explore.

Our movements are softer, and pace is slower compared to when we were outside. I wonder how far we will go tonight. I close my mind to the thought and focus on the here and now - the feel of Paul's lips on mine, the rain beginning to fall that I can hear, the beat of my heart.

Paul is tender as he pulls me down onto the bed with him and I aim to be just as sweet. I feel his hands moving up and down my sides, fingers sinking into my soft flesh as he grips certain areas. I press my mouth to his and trace every muscle with just the tips of my fingers. I feel them jump and clench under my touch and move my hands to run up his sides. I settle my hands on his shoulders and try to relax my tense body.

I try not to think about if I'm crushing Paul in this position, if I'm too heavy. Once I acknowledge this, it's all I can think of and it's impossible to relax. Paul, as if he could read my mind, pulls his mouth away from mine and brings it to my ear.

"Relax, baby girl," He says, his breath tickling the shell of my ear.

As if my body were controlled by his words, it relaxes and he groans when my hips settle onto his. I feel him pressing against my thigh and am about to shift my hips when he rolls us over so that he's on top.

We kiss a little more, hips moving slowly and wantonly against one another's for a while before Paul begins to tug at my shirt. I slip it off with ease this time, no hesitance and return my lips to his.

Paul's hands roam across the new skin, leaving hot paths in their wake and I let out this breathy noise when he reaches the underside of my breasts. He kisses along the line of my jaw, a growl sounding out when he takes in a deep breath - probably catching the scent of my arousal. I cling to him as he brutally thrusts is hips against mine and cups my breast.

His hand is so warm against my already warm body and I can't help myself when I let out a little moan. His thumb circles around my hardened nipple and my grip on his shoulders worsens, my nails digging into his flesh. I feel one of his other hand sneaking up my back, reaching for the clasp of my bra. He struggles with it for a few moments and I let out a breathy laugh when he mutters, "Fuck."

I sit up a bit and reach behind me, unclasping my bra. My boobs spill out and Paul moves the straps down, tossing the garment away after. I feel shy all of a sudden and completely exposed. I want to cover myself but I know that to do so would be a moot point. Paul stares at them for a beat or two - long enough to make me nervous.

"Say something." I plead, my insecurities creeping up on me.

Paul just lets out a low growl, one that goes straight to my groin. He cups both of them at the same time and the air in my lungs leaves with a _whoosh_. Paul squeezes and kneads, pressing his lips to mine again. I lay back on the bed and try to take in all the sensations. Paul moves with me and mutters, "Your boobs are fantastic."

I giggle softly but it is cut off when I feel his thumb brush over my sensitive nipple. My eyes close and I arch up off the bed, encouraging more action. Paul kisses down my neck, all the while pinching and rolling. I try to stifle the sounds but can't seem to stop them from escaping. I let out a cry of surprise and pleasure when I feel him take one of my nipples into his mouth. My toes curl and the throbbing between my legs is almost painful.

I feel his hand moving down my abdomen and it stops just at the button on my jeans. I arch my hips, encouraging him to unbutton them.

His mouth pulls away from my body and he groans, pressing his head to my shoulder. He growls, "Bella, if we go any further I won't be able to stop myself...the urge..."

I sink my fingers into his hair, guiding him to look at me. I press a kiss to his lips, "I know. I-I don't want you to stop."

"Are your sure, baby-girl?" Paul asks.

"I am." I nod, and I was.

"I don't want you doing this just because of the challenge...I want you doing this for the right reasons, Bella." He says, his voice serious.

I press my lips to his before pulling away, "I'm doing this for all the _right_ reasons."

And I was.

He nods and then presses his lip to mine.

Paul unbuttons my jeans, tugging them down my legs as far as he can. I kick them off the rest of the way and try to control my heavy breaths. I was nervous, excited, aroused and probably a lot more.

"Relax, baby-love." He whispers.

I try to do so but it seems impossible when we're chest to chest and his finger is tracing a line from hip to hip. His finger dips under the elastic and my breath catches in my throat. Paul slides a finger between my folds and my hips buck without permission.

"You're so wet," He groans, sliding his finger up to my clit with ease.

I let out a breathy, wanton sound when his finger brushes over it. He does it again, moving around it in slow, deliberate circles. Each touch serves to tighten the coil in my belly and my hand grabs a fist full of the sheets I am laying on. Paul slides his finger down my slit once again, circling my entrance before sliding back up to my now swollen nub. He applies more pressure this time as he circles and teases. I want to tell him to stop teasing me but just as I open my mouth to do so he slides his finger back down to my wet core. Paul traces my entrance once again and slides his finger inside.

"Fuck," Paul growls. "So tight."

He withdraws his finger almost all the way before pushing it back in. He repeats the pumping motion again and again before I feel his thumb on my clit. I let out a breathy cry and clench my eyes shut. The coil in my belly is hot and twisting with each movement and it's the sweetest pain. Paul adds another finger, stretching me, continuing on. He curls them inside before withdrawing and thrusting them back in.

"Fuck, Paul," I gasp when he does it again.

Paul quickens the pace of his fingers but continues to twist and curl them all the while. I don't know how long he does this to me, but a sensation is building inside of me. It's out of my control and all I can feel.

"Are you close?" His voice is gruff.

I nod my head frantically and Paul works his fingers faster if possible. The feeling is overwhelming and it's like something snaps inside when he presses down hard my clit and thrusts his fingers deep.

I let out a cry and my whole body surrenders as an orgasm rips through me. My toes curl and my hands grip the sheets and my back arches.

I my body goes slack and I lay there under Paul, trying to catch my breath.

He presses open mouthed kisses to the juncture of my neck and even in my recovering state, my head lolls to the side, offering him more to work with. Paul peels my panties away from my body and my hands go to the button of his jeans. I struggle, my fingers shaking with nerves. It takes a few tries, but finally I pop the button open and push his jeans down his legs with my feet.

My hands are still trembling when I lay one on his hip and Paul takes notice. His hand finds mine, removing it from his hip, entwining it with mine and raises it above our heads in swift motion. He squeezes my hand gently, kisses me sweet.

He removes his boxers and I feel him hard and ready against my thigh. I chance a look down and can't help but wonder if he will fit. I push the worry away, slide a hand into Paul's hair and try to ready myself. I hear the crinkle of foil and watch as he slowly rolls the condom on.

Paul gently uses his knee to push my legs farther apart and pulls his mouth away from mine.

"Ready?" He positions his head at my entrance.

"Yes."

I feel him sliding in and I know when he has hit my hymen because of the pressure I feel inside. I've never felt so full or stretched and it hurts - I feel pinpricks at the back of my eyes. Paul takes my mouth and a fierce kiss when he thrusts forward quickly, breaking the barrier. I let out a whimper of pain, squeezing his hand hard that I still am holding. The pain I feel is overwhelming and all I can think of.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs against my lips.

Paul pulls his mouth away from mine, his head dropping to my shoulder as he tries to control his urges, I'm sure. He lets out a low groan and I wait for the pain to pass. It does eventually and I shift my hips gently, tentatively.

"Bella," Paul groans, a warning no doubt. "I..."

"I know," I press a kiss to his neck.

Paul shifts his hips, gently pulling out of me before thrusting forward again. He continues to do so, his strokes are slow and deep. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he lets out a loud, approving growl. The angle is deeper now and Paul is building a fire inside of me.

All I can feel is him.

His hard chest against my own.

His hot breath against my neck.

His hips meeting my hips.

His slick skin moving against mine.

He is all I can breathe.

He is all that I touch.

And everything that I need.

"Paul..." I moan as his pace quickens.

We were hurtling towards something far greater than what I felt before.

We're moving limbs and soft moans and slick skin and thundering hearts. I cling to him, pressing so very close. I don't know how or when it happens but the world falls away and something snaps inside the both of us.

My toes curl and I squeeze his hand hard just as before as I let out a soft cry. I am in a hazy state as I recover and barely feel Paul gently pull out of me. He rolls to the side, pulling me with him with a firm hand around my waist.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head and murmurs quietly, "Thank you, baby-girl."

I look up at him, teasing, "Are you thanking me for sex, Paul? Seriously?"

He lets out a chuckle, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"No," He says, running a hand through my hair. "I am thanking you for more than sex...I'm thanking you for sticking around and putting up with me and not giving up and caring enough and for sharing yourself with me -"

"Paul," I cut him off, smiling at him. I lean up, cupping his cheek. "I know."

I press a soft,tender, kiss to his lips, trying to communicate that I understand what his awkward thanks and completely Paul-like delivery mean. I know he is speaking from his heart, or trying to, and that is enough for me. I pull away, resting my head on his chest as he pulls the covers up and around us.

It is there in Paul's arms that not only do I know that I love him so much that it hurts, but that he has my heart, and always will.

We fall asleep in each others arms, drifting into the dark night.

**P ~ B **

I wake up to the feeling of sun on my skin and wandering eyes.

I blink open my eyes to see Paul propped up on his elbow, eyes on me and a smile overtakes my face before I can even stop it. The corner of his mouth turns up, creating a delicious curve that makes me want to kiss him. I somehow feel more connected and in tune with Paul and can't help but wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that he 'claimed' me.

I am laying on my stomach, sheets bunched around my waist as I whisper, "Morning."

Paul reaches forward, gently brushing hair out of my face and curling it behind my ear. "Morning, beautiful."

A blush overtakes my cheeks and Paul chuckles, "You didn't blush once last night, and you do now, when I call you beautiful?"

I shrug my shoulders and try not to think about the fact that today was the day of the challenge. The thought makes my heart clench painfully in my chest and I try not to dwell on it but it's impossible not to.

It's all I can think about when Paul leaves and goes to shower.

It's all I can think about when I shower.

It's all I can think of when Paul makes us lunch.

It's all I can think of during the afternoon as Paul and I lounge around his house.

It's the reason a press close and try to savor every moment.

Evening is giving way to night and tension is rising between the two of us. Nerves filled me and anxiety had my gut in a vice grip. My heart was at my throat and I wanted nothing more than to beg Paul not to do this.

I look over at Paul, we were once again on his back porch, his arm around me. I stare out at the horizon, the sun sinking behind the trees, night chasing it away. A shiver runs through me and my gaze returns to Paul.

I review what he had told me just moments ago - how the challenge was going to work. We were going to be meeting the Pack and Council in a clearing in the forest. The challenge would take place and whoever came out alive was the new Alpha.

I nibble nervously on my lower lip, running over what I would do if Paul didn't prevail. I didn't really know; I mean, what would happen to me? The Imprint linked us in a way that made me wonder if he died, would I be able to survive without him? The thought makes my gut jump and causes worries to flood my mind.

"We are going to have to go soon." Paul says.

I nod my head and can't even bring myself to look at him one more time. I knew that if I did, I would come completely undone and end up pleading with him not to do this to instead I hold his hand tight and stand up, "Let's go."

He stands as well and we begin our walk towards the clearing. We walk silently and swiftly, neither of us exchanging glances. Far too soon I can hear the sounds of people and know that we are near the clearing. The trees are thinning and my feet are heavier than ever.

Paul stops where he is and yanks me back to where he is. The quick motion throws me off so I am shocked when I feel his lips against mine. He captures my mouth in a kiss that is desperate and fearful and communicates everything we're feeling. I feel a tear running down my cheek but press closer still and grab a fistful of his hair. My lungs begin to burn for oxygen and I know I need to pull away but I don't want to - not with the knowledge that this could be my last kiss. Paul makes the decision for me though, ripping his mouth away from mine with a haggard breath. My eyes remain closed and I let out a pathetic sound as more tears fall.

He presses his forehead to mine, "Look at me."

Despite the fact that I know that I shouldn't, I do anyway, opening my eyes.

"Paul.." His name falls from my lips, a plea.

He cradles my head in his hands, brushing his thumbs under my eyes, wiping away my tears.

"I know, baby girl," He brushes his lips with mine. "But I need you to know that - that you're my everything; I love you, Swan."

I hug him to me and the words escape easily, "I love you too, Paul."

His arms wrap around me and he jokes, "I didn't think it was possible."

My laugh is pathetic and nothing what it should sound like. "I didn't either. But I do."

It feels like seconds have passed when Paul loosens his hold and begins to pull away. He slides an arm back around my waist and we enter the clearing.

**P ~ B **

The tension is all around us and seems to freeze everyone's movements once they see us. I press closer to Paul and hold my head high, holding onto the anger I have for these people. My eyes trace every form, and linger on Emily - she looks just as I feel; sick with nerves. I nod at her, as if to communicate that I understand that both of us stand to lose something tonight.

The Council sits in front of me and the Pack is gathered on either side of them. Paul and I stop once we reach them and I know I should pay attention to the proceedings and the voice calling out the rules but I seem to have gone numb. All I can think of is getting through this.

I watch as they both Phase into their other forms and try not to worry over the fact that Sam is bigger than Paul. The fight begins and my heart is in my throat as they start circling, neither making a move just yet. Both of them move at the same time, launching themselves forward and meeting in a collision of growls and snarls. They are both up on their hind legs and Paul has Sam by the scruff of his neck. He manages to throw him down but Sam springs back up easily.

The fight continues and they wrestle and swipe and bite and snarl and growl. My heart is hammering in my chest and it freezes when Sam grabs Paul by the back of his neck. Tears spring into my eyes as I watch Paul struggle, lupine whimpers escaping. He manages to escape somehow but Sam grabs him by the tail, hauling him back. Paul kicks back his hind legs, hitting Sam in the face.

I don't know how much longer I can take this and I look over at Emily and she appears to share my sentiments.

They are both bloodied and looking like neither will hold out much longer. The only question is who is going to slip and give an opening for the other. It is painful to watch when Sam takes a swipe at Paul, clawing at his left eye. Paul earns a jagged cut across his eye and a little of his snout. Paul lets out an angry growl and launches himself at his opponent. Sam fends off the attack, managing to get Paul under him and I watch with horror as Paul struggles to get out of the vulnerable position that has his neck exposed to Sam. Paul wiggles and squirms and bites at Sam's legs causing him to rear back and off of Paul. I clench my eyes shut once Paul darts forward, going for the jugular.

I hear a scream from Emily and my eyes snap open.

I open my eyes to see Paul with blood on his snout and Sam collapsed at his feet.

A heavy mix of joy and disappointment sweep through me.

I focus on Sam and see blood pooling in his fur, matting it to his skin.

It seems that chaos breaks out from there, Emily rushing out into the clearing, falling to her knees by Sam.

The Council shouting out orders.

The Pack watching and yelling.

Emily sinking her hands into her mate's blood ridden fur and she lets out sounds that I've never heard.

Paul in the middle.

Me on the fringe.

My eyes catch his and my heart clenches in my chest.

Was it wrong that I still loved him?

Was it wrong that I was happy that it wasn't him laying in his blood?

Was it wrong that I felt justified?

Was it wrong that I felt horrified?

Was it wrong that I didn't know if I could handle this?

Was it wrong?

All of it?

I take the first step forward and then another and another and soon I am running towards Paul. My feet falter when I am close enough to see the blood that stains his snout and paws. I know now is not the time to question him or show any doubt so I stand by his side.

I didn't know what was supposed to happen now - what Paul was supposed to do. That question was soon answered when a loud, carrying voice cried out, "Silence!"

The order came from one of the Elders; Quil Sr. He was characteristically quiet, and I had only heard him speak once before in my entire life - I was five, and there was a community meeting.

"It appears we have our new Alpha." Quil spoke again, his voice not as loud as before. "Come forth."

Paul walks forward and I move with him, stopping once we are about a foot away from the Elders.

"You fought well, young one," He compliments. "Are you prepared to step into your new role?"

Paul nods and you can almost feel the air around us change. If possible, the tension grows and the feeling is almost suffocating. I wondered if the Pack was prepared to accept Paul as their Alpha. I glanced over at the group of them and couldn't discern if they would or not. I hoped they could.

"Go forth, tomorrow is a new day that holds mystery for all of us." Quil says, dismissing us all.

Everyone retreats, all but Emily who still clings to Sam. The image of myself in her position flashes in my mind's eye and a shudder moves through me.

**P ~ B**

We didn't speak at all on the way home and it made me nervous, because the silence wasn't at all comfortable. We were both tense and focused on ourselves and not each other.

I am currently in his bedroom, wandering around the space. Fingers lifting up nicknacks and eyes inspecting, waiting for Paul to return. He said he had to Phase back into his human form but that had been about twenty minutes ago. I know that it wasn't supposed to take that long and the thought causes my gut to clench painfully. A traitorous voice whispers that he isn't coming back, but I clench my eyes, summoning the will to silence it. Paul would come back. He had to.

Twenty minutes turned into forty.

Forty became an hour and a half.

Two hours.

Three hours.

Four hours.

By the fourth I was so angry I could almost taste it. I wanted to scream and yell and curse at him - but he wasn't here. I couldn't believe he was pulling this shit again - leaving. I stomp down the stairs and grab my keys off the table by the door. I let the door slam behind me as I leave and hope that he's close enough to hear with his supernatural senses. I get into my truck and drive myself home.

When I arrive at my house, the lights are on despite the fact that it's midnight and my parents are usually in bed by eleven, if they are even home. I hop out of the car, feet dragging as if my shoes were made of led. I didn't want to face my Mother or my Father right now. I was emotionally raw and exhausted and so fucking angry.

I step into the house and my mother calls from the kitchen, "Bella, is that you?"

No, it's fucking Count Chocula, I reply dryly, in my head at least. I walk into the kitchen and see her sitting at the counter, a bottle of wine open and nearly empty and a glass in her hand.

She swirls the red liquid in her glass, "Where the hell have you been?"

Her words are slurred and hard to understand.

I shake my head at her and turn away, leaving the kitchen - I didn't have it in me to deal with this shit tonight. My mother normally wasn't one to abuse any sort of substance, however, I knew that something must be really wrong if she managed to drink an entire bottle of wine in one night. Either my dad and her got into an argument, or something went wrong at work. I didn't care to find out which.

"I asked you a question, dammit!" My mother screeches. "Answer me!"

I spin around and basically explode. All the pent up anger that is meant for Paul pushes me over the edge and loosens my lips. The words I've been wanting to say to her for that past few years spill out along with all the resentment and hate and hurt.

"It's not like you fucking care!" I scream at her. "It's a little late, _mother_, don't you think?

"All my life you've fucking ignored me - oh wait, except when you are busy telling me how fat and ugly I am! You refer to me as a wholesome beauty - but only because you have to - and its only to other people, fuck, you're a real piece of work. I fucking _hate_ you, you know that? I _hate_ you. I hate that you've made me so insecure - made me hate myself!"

"Don't you talk to me like that, you little bitch!" My mother yells back. "I'm your Mother!"

"Don't you get it?" I shout. "You're not! If you were my Mother you would love me - you wouldn't put me down and call me a bitch or a whore - you wouldn't belittle me and make me feel like shit. You're just a fucking breeder!"

I didn't see the slap coming.

But I sure as hell felt it.

She hit me hard and between the impact and surprise of actually being hit, my head swung, hitting the doorframe with a sickening sound. I regain my bearings, and feel something warm trickling down my cheek. I raise a shaking hand to my temple, and pull it back so I can see that I have blood on my hands. My cheek is throbbing and my head hurts so bad that I feel like I'm going to be sick.

We both just stare at each other for a few moments before my mother bursts into tears, rushing forward, trying to embrace me as she coos, "I'm sorry, baby...I didn't mean to...I'm sorry..."

I wriggle out of her grasp, "Get off of me."

My voice is so calm its almost scary and I run away from my mother, fleeing to the bathroom of our main floor. I lock it and fish my cell phone out of my pocket, dialing Leah's number.

"Please pick up, please pick up," I am muttering, panic rising quickly inside.

"Hello?" Leah answers.

"Leah!" I nearly shout. "I need you to come and get me, I need to get to the hospital."

Tears are running down my face and they make my voice sound warbled and thick.

"Are you okay? What happened?" She demands and I hear rustling in the background, keys jangling.

"Can you just come and get me, please?"

"Where are you?"

"At home."

"I'm on my way." She hangs up.

Leah didn't live to far from me and I waited in the bathroom until I hear honks from a car outside. I open the door of my makeshift hiding place and see my mother passed out on the floor where I ran from her. I move out of the house quickly as I can but it's hard when the floor keeps moving up and down. I know immediately that I hit my head much harder than I thought. When I stumble over to Leah's car she looks at me with wide eyes, "Shit, dude, what the fuck?"

If the situation weren't so bad, I would have laughed.

Leah knew about my Mom and her issues with my weight and her parenting by neglect.

"My mom." I rasp, settling into the seat.

Leah peels out of her spot in front of my place and soon we're rushing to the hospital.

"What the fuck happened, Bells?" She demands, glancing at me and then the road and then back to me again.

"Got into a fight with her and said some shit I shouldn't have. She slapped me and I ended up hitting my head because of the force of it." I say, letting my eyes close.

"Shit.." Leah hisses. "Open your eyes, Bella, keep them open, you hear me?"

I force my eyes back open and count the streetlights on the way to the hospital. Soon we reach our destination and Leah helps me walk in. We reach the nurse's station and Leah sounds all panicky when she talks to the nurse.

I'm taken to the ER and they put me on a bed, whipping the dividing curtains around, promising that a Doctor will be with me soon.

I sit on the end of the bed, taking in deep breaths - hoping that it will prevent me from being sick.

"Do you want me to call Paul?" Leah offers.

I hesitate for a moment, not knowing if I wanted her to. But we were past this petty shit of ignoring each other and he deserved to know what was going on. I nod my head and she flips open her phone, dialing his number and bringing it up to her ear.

"Hey, Paul? Yeah, it's me, Leah...Listen, it's Bella...we're at the hospital...see you soon."

She hangs up and glances up at me, "He's on his way."

I nod my head and try not to focus on the anger I still feel - all of it meant for him.

"Hey," Leah inches closer to me. "Why did you call me, and not him? I mean not that I mind - I'll always be here, but, I'm just curious."

"We got into a fight," I lie easily. "And he left. I didn't know where he was or how I could reach him...so I called you."

At least the latter was a little true.

It feels like I've been waiting forever when I sense that Paul is here. I see his black boots, and nothing else, until he rips the curtain open, looking panicked and scared. His eyes land on me and he rushes over. He doesn't say anything as he checks me over, hands flitting about, nostrils flaring as he sniffs the air around me.

"I'm okay." I mumble, not looking up at him.

"Clearly you're not." He growls and I feel his hand brush along the bruise that I am sure has formed on my cheek from my mother's slap.

Before I can say anything the Doctor enters at that moment and Paul steps back and away. The Doctor looks from me to Paul, the bruise on my cheek before introducing himself.

"I'm Doctor Howard," He outstretches his hand and I shake it. "Let's take a look at the damage."

He walks over to me and takes in the bruise on my cheek, gently turning my head to look it over. He then turns his attention to the cut on my head and begins to clean it up after acquiring some supplies. He applies some sticky strips that look like bandaids to the cut on my head, telling me that they will help the cut to close.

"Thankfully stitches are not required, however, I suspect you may have a concussion, s I would like to run some tests and find out how you got these injuries." Dr. Howard states.

After he runs some tests he tells me, fortunately, that I have a mild concussion. When he begins to question the situation, I'm thankful that I'm able to lie so easily. I make up some bogus story that I tripped and fell, hit my head first and then my cheek with the impact of my fall. Dr. Howard doesn't look like he buys it, but I'm eighteen and there isn't much to be done if he suspects I was hit by a parent. Even though I'm pretty sure he thinks Paul was the one to hit me, he can't do much either. leaves eventually, telling me how to treat the wound on my head and what to expect from my cheek in terms of bruising and swelling.

Paul is back at my side instantly, "What actually happened?"

"I got into an argument with my Mother and said some stuff I shouldn't have and she hit me and I ended up hitting my head because of how hard she hit me." I mutter, not wanting to look him in the eye still.

I didn't know what to do with Paul. He had left and when I needed him most I didn't know whether or not he was going to be here. I was merely pleasantly surprised that Leah was able to reach Paul and that he came. I mean, what if she couldn't reach him? What if he wasn't around? What if he had still been out, avoiding me?

It seemed that we couldn't shake the pattern of building each other up only to break each other back down. The fact that that was what our relationship was frightened and sickened me. We had been doing so well - going so strong for the longest time and now look at us. Sighing I look up at Leah who watches us with weary eyes.

I wondered what we looked like to her.

Did we look happy?

Did we look like we belong together?

Did we look like we had faith in one another?

I didn't know and wasn't sure if I even wanted to.

"I don't want to go home." I say, looking at them both. "Is there anyway I could stay with one of you?"

"Yes -"

"You can stay -"

They both speak at the same time and Leah glares at him.

"Fuck no, she's not staying with you." Leah hisses. "Where were you when she needed you? She called _me_, not you - for a reason, Paul."

Paul lets out a growl, "You don't know what you're talking about. She's mine to take care of - back off, Clearwater."

"She's _yours_? Since when did she become a fucking object?" Leah bites back and I know that I have to stop this before their tempers get away from them.

"Enough." I say firmly, getting off the bed. "I'll decide who I'm staying with, thank you very much."

They both look at me and I don't really know who I want to stay with. If I go with Leah, chances are that I have to explain my situation to Leah's family. I know that Sue would most likely welcome me with open arms but I can't imagine airing my dirty laundry like that. If I stay with Paul, I also would have to explain to his mother and deal with the shit storm between us.

I look over to Paul and know immediately that I probably shouldn't stay with him. But I felt that insane pull and new that he needed me like I needed him right now. I also know that there would be hell to pay if I didn't go with him.

"I'll stay with you." I look at him and a smug grin takes over his face.

He looks over at Leah and I roll my eyes.

"Are you sure, Bella? My mom won't mind, I just gotta call her." Leah says, concern written all over her features.

"I'm sure, thank you though, Lee." I hug her and her arms wrap around me, squeezing me tight.

"We need to talk, and soon." She whispers into my ear and I know she is just trying to look out for me so I nod my head.

**P ~ B**

I go back to Paul's place, completely silent.

I was falling back into our old routine.

When I was scared of him.

Of what he could do.

Of what he could say.

And it nearly broke my heart.

Because I didn't need to be.

I feel his eyes on me.

But I don't look at him like I know he wants.

We've just entered his house when Paul goes to say something, "Bella -"

I hold up my hand, "Please, Paul, not tonight."

I didn't want to talk about the fact that I had waited around for him for much longer than I should have. I didn't want to even try to understand why he felt the need to return to that old habit of leaving. I couldn't talk about it right now - my head was throbbing and my cheek hurt like a bitch. I was exhausted and all I wanted was to sleep.

We make our way up to his room and once inside he offers me some pajamas to sleep in. The pajamas consist of his shirt and a pair of his boxers. I take them from him wordlessly and slide past him, into the bathroom connected to his room. I change quickly and linger in front of the mirror, inspecting the bruise on my cheek. It was angry looking, a red and angry looking purple-blue. I brush my fingers over the swollen flesh, hissing at the contact.

I leave the bathroom and my eyes immediately land on Paul. He sits on the edge of his bed in nothing but a pair of loose shorts, that look to be meant for exercising. If I weren't in the mood I was, the sight of him shirtless might have caused my breath to stutter, my heart to jump.

I walk over to the bed and am about to climb into it when he grabs my arm. His grip is gentle, loose, and could be easily broken, but even though I know this, I let him pull me in closer. I allow him to guide me to stand between his legs and wrap his arms around me. He presses his face against my soft abdomen and lets out a lupine whimper.

I don't do anything to encourage him, my arms are limp at my sides because I don't have anything left to give to Paul anymore. I break away from his hold, and sit down on the bed beside him, not knowing what to say to him. He grabs at my hand, but my fingers don't interlock with his like they normally do.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I love you."

"I know." I whisper, tears in my eyes. "And that's the saddest part of it all."

**A/N: Worth the wait?**

**Happy with the outcome of the challenge?**

**Favorite part?**

**Anyway, I hope to have the next chapter up relatively soon. **

**Thanks to all those who are still with me and reading!**

**See y'all next time!**

**Playlist: **

**Hysteric (Acoustic) - Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

**White Blank Page - Mumford & Sons **

**Fix You - Coldplay **

**Between Two Lungs - Florence and the Machine **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **

**Hi...It's been ages. A little over a year. I can't say anything other than that real life got in the way. It's been a rough year and that, paired with writer's block, caused this story to suffer. My apologies for leaving you all hanging. To all those who PM'd me, I received your messages and thank you for reaching out. **

**If your'e still with me, thanks. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It's all S.M's. **

**White Blank Page **

**Chapter Fifteen: Shake it Out **

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Paul demands, acid coating his words.

Instantly dread mixed with regret hits me, like a swift kick in the stomach and I want to take back my words, if only to avoid the argument that will surely occur.

"Please, Paul, let's not do this tonight, we're both not up for it..."

"Bull shit!" He rips his hand from mine and stands up.

My head falls into my waiting hands and tears rise up, ready to spill over.

I hated this.

"I -" I try to speak but Paul cuts me off.

"No!" He shouts at me.

He turns his back on me, panting heavily and his growls fill the room. I sit there, feeling hot all over but cold on the inside.

"It's always about you," Paul hisses. "How _you_ feel. What I've done wrong - it's always me! Never you!"

He spins around to face me, a fire blazing in his eyes. "Do you care about anything other than how _you_ feel? I'm always tending to you - are you okay, _Bella_? Something bothering you, _Bella_? What did I do now, _Bella_? Pull your head out of your ass for a second, Swan, and look around, this relationship can't be about you all the time!"

His words get progressively louder and I flinch at his sharp tone. But the words only hurt because they're true.

"Tell me, Swan, did you stop and think about how I felt earlier? Huh? Why I couldn't come back? I had just killed somebody. Do you not think I deserved some time to figure my shit out?"

I don't speak, my trembling lips fail me and I just sit there, looking like a deer caught in the headlights I imagine.

"Answer me, damn it!"

"I'm sorry!" I shout.

"Sorry doesn't make it any better, Swan," He snarls. "You said you wanted to be here for me, but every time I need you, you aren't there. Every. Fucking. Time."

"Sorry doesn't cut it?" I yell at him.

"I get it, Paul, I fucked up - clearly I've been doing it for a while now, but I'll be damned if you tell me that sorry isn't enough. I'm new to this shit. I don't know how to be in a relationship. I don't know how to be there for you because you don't let me get close enough - I'm too busy worrying if I'll misstep and all of a sudden you'll be out the door -"

"If that's what you're still worried about than that just shows me you don't believe in me - in us!"

"Ugh!" I groan. "It's not like I don't believe in us, Paul! I do...It's just hard, okay? You yourself have to admit we didn't get the best start and nothing's ever been easy for us -"

"Relationships aren't easy, Bella! Not all the time!"

"I never said they were supposed to be, Paul!"

"Well it sure as hell seems like you expect it to be that way!"

"I know things will never be that way between us, Paul! I know that we don't have a relationship that is rainbows and glitter and sparkles! I _know_!"

"Well you sure as hell don't act like it! You know, Swan, you tell me that all is forgiven - that you're okay - but clearly that's a crock of shit because if you were okay, you wouldn't have freaked out about me being gone for so long. Your brain _wouldn't_ have jumped to back when me leaving meant I wasn't coming back. You _wouldn't_ have been angry. You _would've_ actually looked at the situation and realized that I needed to pull my shit together because I had just killed Sam. That I needed time."

I take in his words, and all of a sudden its like my organs turn to stone and disappear into the pit of my stomach. I realize that he's right to a certain extent. While I had forgiven Paul for the things that he had done, for all the mean and angry words, the fear and insecurity associated with it all had not left me. The fear was still present and I've been letting it control and effect my decisions.

I look at him, no more than three feet away from me, but he has never felt so out of reach.

I don't know what to say or do. I find myself suddenly caught flatfooted and I can't say that I enjoy the feeling. The tables had turned, so to speak, and I didn't know how to handle it. Paul was absolutely right this time and it was me that owed him an apology.

"I..." I speak, but my voice trails off, failing me. "I'm sorry. You're right."

I felt uncomfortable. Embarrassment swept through me, for my behavior and how I constantly treated Paul. I knew that in some instances Paul definitely held a lot of the blame, and quite justly so, but this was not one of those situations. It made me wonder if I did this often and if Paul had just been holding it in all this time. I desperately just wanted to be alone and was kicking myself for not choosing to go home with Leah. But I knew that there was value in confronting this issue.

Tears sting at the back of my eyes but I hold them back.

I sit back down on the bed, repeating my apology again. I can't seem to look him in the eye.

I feel him come sit down next to me, his heat radiating and warming the side of my arm.

"We just need to work a few more things out, that's all," Paul says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

All anger has left him and I find it disarming. I knew how to deal with Paul when he was screaming and growling, when he was angry and ready to tear a strip off of me. I didn't know how to handle this though. He was too calm. Handling this too well. The Paul I was used to was bitter and spiteful. Guilt at my thoughts churns in my stomach and his arm draped across my shoulder intensifies the feeling.

"I know. I'm sorry..."

"I heard you before. Enough." Paul states, his tone sharp.

I tense and give a small nod. My throat is tight and a lump is sitting at the back of it. I simply sit there with his arm wrapped around me, not knowing quite what to do with myself or the situation.

Paul breaks the silence after a few moments with a chuckle, "We survived our first fight; don't we get to have make up sex now?"

I burst out laughing, slapping him on the chest lightly. He catches the offensive hand and holds it there, against his chest for a moment.

"Hey," he whispers softly. "Look at me."

I look over at him, a slight smile sitting on my lips.

"I love you, you know that? No matter how much I yell, no matter how long I take to come around, _I love you_." His voice is firm as it is fierce and I nod my head.

I press my lips to his. I kiss him sweetly, trying to apologize, trying to communicate that I understand. I move my hand laying on his chest and move it up to his cheek. I pull away from the kiss, running my thumb back and forth lightly across his cheek bone, "I know. I love you too."

He presses his lips to mine in a firm kiss before pulling away and stating, "C'mon, baby-girl, let's get some sleep."

With that we climb into bed and situate ourselves comfortably. I am laying on my side facing Paul, and he is on his back not too far from me. I look at him, with the moonlight shining on his skin from the window on his side of the room and am hit by how far we have come. Never before would I have imagined that Paul and I could end an argument amicably or that we would even be sharing a bed, in more ways than one. My heart clenches in my chest and I whisper, "Paul?"

"Yeah, Swan?"

"Did you ever see us making it this far?"

"Honestly?"

"Obviously."

"No. But I'm glad we have."

"Me too."

With that he reaches out, curing his arm around me, and draws me into his side. I snuggle in and let sleep drag me down into the abyss.

**P ~ B**

I wake up with Paul curled around me. He has one arm tightly wound around my waist, the other acting as my pillow. It is then that my bladder informs me of its need to be emptied and I wriggle out of his arms as delicately as I can, not wanting to wake him up. But I don't think I needed to be so careful as the man was dead to the world, sound asleep and snoring away.

I shake my head and go to the bathroom. I wander back into the bedroom, leaning against the door frame, and watch him for a few moments. He was changing and I didn't know if I could quite keep up with him. I felt extreme guilt; wasn't this what I wanted? For him to finally wake up and communicate? To actually talk and not yell? So then why was I so resistant?

I simply shake my head, and the motion reminds me of the throbbing of my temple. I raise a hand touch the tender area where my head smacked against the wall. Memories of the fight with my mother flash behind my eyelids. I didn't know what to do about _that_ situation. Would I go home tonight? My stomach churns at the thought. Could I stay here? Paul's mother was coming home tomorrow from a business trip and I didn't quite know how she would feel about inheriting another teenager.

My attention is drawn back to the present with a particularly loud snore coming from Paul and I snicker quietly. I step away from the doorway and head downstairs to his kitchen, intending to make us something to eat. I set about familiarizing myself with the ins and outs of the kitchen and in no time I am making pancakes, bacon, and eggs.

It feels good to turn my mind off and to just go through the motions. I am so out of it that I jump when I hear Paul's raspy voice, "G'morning."

"Morning," I say, flipping a pancake and glancing over at him.

He smiles at me, stretching his arms up over his head, the shorts he wears dip lower on his hips and heat licks at my cheeks as I quickly return my attention to the task at hand.

He lets out a low chuckle, "I don't mind if you look, Swan."

The heat in my cheeks intensifies and I roll my eyes. He was far too smug.

He comes over, standing behind me, and whispers low in my ear, "No good morning kiss?"

I turn around and offer him my cheek, just to be funny.

He laughs, planting a kiss on the corner of my lips.

"Breakfast is just about ready." I say once Paul has pulled away.

Paul grabs some plates and once I have them in front of me I begin to put a plate together for myself and leave Paul to make his own. I sit down at the table and pour some syrup over my pancakes. Paul joins me, a piece of bacon already hanging out of his mouth.

I snicker, shaking my head and Paul lets out a small growl. I roll my eyes and grab my own piece of bacon.

We're quiet as we both eat my breakfast and the comfortable silence isn't broken until Paul speaks.

"So when are you going to tell me what actually went down with your mom."

My gut jumps and twists.

I didn't want to think about this right now. It was so much easier to pretend that last night didn't happen and that I hadn't needed to spend the night at Paul's. I knew that I needed to talk to him but I wasn't quite in the mindset to be doing so, especially since I myself wasn't quite sure about how I felt about the whole ordeal.

"Swan?" Paul presses, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

I poke at a pancake with my fork, sighing. "I came back from your place, and I was already angry, she was drunk, and she just pushed me too far."

I cradle my head in my hands. "I told her that I hated her...that she wasn't really a Mother, that she was just a breeder. And then she slapped me. I didn't even see it coming, and the force of it caused me to smack my head against the wall."

I rub the small bump on my head, near my hairline, wincing at the pain and the memory.

Paul lets out a whoosh of air.

I look up at him, "I just don't know what I'm going to do. I mean, part of me knows I should go back and fix things. Even though she's not a good Mother by any means, she is still my Mom. Plus, it's foolish to think that I would be able to ignore this. I can't stay at your place forever."

"I don't want you going back there." Paul scowls, his fork clanging loudly against the plate as he drops it.

"I don't have much choice." I argue, trying to make him see reason.

"You do. Stay with me."

"Paul, I don't think your mother would like you making this sort of decision without her. And I refuse to impose like that."

"You wouldn't be imposing." He grumbles.

I roll my eyes, "I wouldn't be imposing if it were just you making the decision, Paul. Think of your mother."

"I know." He grunts.

"She doesn't get back till tomorrow, I'll work something out by then." My mind drifts to possibly crashing at Leah's.

Paul is silent and I begin to clear our dishes. I place them in the sink before turning to Paul.

"So, what's on your agenda for the day?"

"Not much. Call a Pack meeting I suppose."

My gut clenches at the thought, flashbacks of the clearing playing in my mind. I look at Paul closely. It's hard to believe that he is my boyfriend, a werewolf and killer. All in one being. I like to think that my view of him hasn't changed but I don't know if that's the case. I don't mean to say that I love him less, I just, see him differently, if that makes sense. My eyes drift over his face. There is a slight scar on his left eyebrow, dividing it near the end, a result from last night's brawl. Other that that he looks normal.

"Well, don't let me being here stop you. Feel free to go about your day as you would normally."

Paul nods, seemingly preoccupied with his thoughts. He exits the kitchen, muttering about going into the shower.

When he leaves I let out a small sigh.

I begin to clean the dishes I had put in the sink and let my mind wander. My thoughts drift from our fight last night to the challenges Paul may face today with the pack. I worry that they won't accept him and that he will face opposition. My mind immediately jumped to what was going to be done about Sam; would he be honored? I'm sure there would be a funeral of some sort.

As I clean my mind drifts back to Paul and I. I think about how we will be graduating in just a few months; what would happen to us? Would I be able to attend university or college? Was that even an option as an Imprint? Could we handle the separation? Anxiety settles in my stomach and nerves squeeze my heart.

I shake my head, physically trying to rid myself of the thoughts and begin to dry now that everything now that its been washed. The dishes are clean and I hear Paul moving about upstairs.

I decide to give Leah a call, maybe work something out where I can stay with her for the next two nights or so. I didn't quite want to go home yet.

I walk over to the house phone mounted on the wall of the kitchen and dial Leah's number.

"Yellow."

"Blue." I joke lamely.

Leah snorts, "Lame. How you holdin' up? Do I need to hurt Paul?"

I chuckle. "No. We're good. I was just wondering if your invitation was still open? You know, to crash at your place for a bit?"

" `Course, I just have to talk with my Mom. I'm sure she'll be cool with it though. It is my mom after all."

"Thanks, Lee. I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know I should go home and sort it all out, but..."

"You don't want to? I know. No worries, Swan, my couch will always be open."

I smile despite the fact that she can't see me and then finish my call with her after saying goodbye.

Paul comes downstairs then, walking into the kitchen. My eyes latch onto his form habitually, taking in the jeans slung low on his hips, his bare chest and his wet, slicked back hair. He is just pulling a shirt over his head now and catches me staring for the second time today. Blood rushes up to my cheeks and I rip my eyes from him.

"Like what you see, Swan? Two times, in less than two hours," He laughs. "I'm on a roll."

"Can you blame me?" I sputter. "It's hardly fair...you're all, you know, chiseled and what not."

Paul smirks, walking over to me, all cocky.

He gets real close and my lungs shrink somehow, causing my breath to quicken.

"Chiseled?"

I just nod and don't look him in the eye.

"Look at me, baby girl."

My cheeks burn even more and I shake my head.

It was embarrassing; I doubted he looked at me like that, or as frequently as I did him.

"Come on, you didn't have any troubles before." He laughs huskily.

I glance up at him, biting my lower lip.

"You don't ever need to be embarrassed for looking, Swan. I like it." He smirks.

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm," He hums, leaning in closer. "Makes me feel good to know my girl wants me."

He plants a kiss on my lips. One that has me gripping the hair at the nape of his neck and stretching up on the tip of my toes.

He pulls away an places a kiss on my forehead.

"We're having a Pack meeting, I should be back in an hour or so. The house is yours."

I nod my head, "Good luck."

Paul leaves then, walking out of the house onto his back porch. He hops over the railing, landing gracefully on the soft grass below. I watch him disappear into the forest and hope that everything goes well for him.

The house is nice and quiet and I decide to shower and get dressed. I leave the kitchen and climb the stairs to Paul's room. I enter and look around, not noticing until now the state that it is in. It's rather messy, his clothes strewn about, concentrated heaps on his desk chair and at the bottom of his open closet. I shake my head and make my way to the bathroom, deciding that I'll wash his clothes once I'm dressed. I needed something to do for the next while to keep my hands and mind busy.

I go about showering and once I leave the hot spray, I smell like Paul, having used his soap and shampoo. I walk over to my side of the bed that I slept on last night and grab my clothes that sit on the floor beside it. I get dressed and set about collecting Paul's.

As I throw clothing into a laundry basket I found, I start to really think about Paul and I and more importantly how I felt about what had happened in the clearing. I still loved Paul, that much was obvious. And I knew that while Paul was violent, he only acted out when provoked or if it were necessary. I was confident that Paul wouldn't kill merely for sport. But no matter how much I told myself this, all I could see was Emily, a crumpled heap, hands gripping the blood soaked fur of her mate, letting out gut wrenching sounds I had never heard before.

I shudder and banish the image from my mind. I couldn't afford to think like that. If Paul hadn't killed Sam, where would I be? Where would Paul's Mom be? It was necessary. But it could have been avoided, my logical side insists - Paul didn't have to challenge Sam in the first place, nor did Sam have to accept.

Balancing the laundry basket on my hip, I take it downstairs to the back room where the washer and dryer are. The clothing is mostly t-shirts, a few gym shorts and a few jeans. I start sorting and continue to think about everything.

I hope that this is it for Paul and I, in terms of drama at least. But something told me it wasn't, I mean, based on last night's tiff, it would be foolish to think so. I knew that I needed to get my ass in gear. Since when was Paul the one leaping ahead of me?

I needed to stop expecting the worst from him, it wasn't good for our relationship and it certainly wasn't fair to Paul. I also needed to shake these insecurities. I think back to the moment in the kitchen and my thoughts. I had a right to look and feel fine while doing it. I knew why I felt awkward though; it seemed as though Paul had been slighted - I mean there was me, and then there was him; chiseled, defined, and handsome. I stop myself from thinking those thoughts - that is exactly what gets me into trouble every time. I needed to be more confident. Paul had even more on his plate now, as Pack leader, and he wouldn't have time to make sure I was okay every moment of every hour.

The thought alone makes me straighten my back a bit and I make a promise to myself right then and there, that I was really going to try. I was going to actually take a compliment when it was given. I was going to hold my head high and look people in the eye. I was going to feel proud, god damn it and not feel ashamed about my body.

I smile to myself as a load the washer up and adjust all the settings. I felt good. Like I was turning a new leaf.

**P ~ B**

Paul returns just as I am taking the last load of clothes out of the dryer.

"Bella?"

"In the back!" I shout.

I hear him walking through the house, towards the back room. I look over at him once he enters and he looks frazzled to say the least.

"What's wrong? Did something happen at the meeting?" I demand, dropping a shirt.

"Sam isn't dead."

My heart freezes in my chest.

"Wh-what?" I stutter.

"He isn't dead. Suffering from serious injuries but not dead."

"But there was so much blood..." I whisper.

Paul nods, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"What does this mean? For you? For the Pack?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Paul says, running a hand through his hair.

"Come on," I say, ushering him into the kitchen. "Let's sit down."

We both sit at the table we had breakfast at that morning. We're both silent for a few moments before I ask another question.

"Was he at the meeting?"

"No, but Emily was - to represent him. She didn't say anything about him fighting me again to be Alpha. She just delivered the news and listened in on the meeting. It kind of threw me off...I didn't say half of what I needed to."

"What do you think will happen?"

"I don't know!" He explodes, his voice loud and sharp. He stands abruptly, knocking the chair back. The sound of his voice and the clattering of the chair causes me to flinch and my heart to knock against my ribs.

He turns away from me, growls erupting from his chest violently. He leans against the sink and I take a deep breath and walk over to him. I press my forehead against his trembling back and wrap my arms around his waist. He lays a hand on my forearm, giving it a squeeze.

"Sorry." He mutters.

I simply press a kiss to the centre of his back. "Don't be."

He turns in my arms and gently cradles my head with his hands. He presses a firm kiss to my forehead as he whispers, "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together."

**P ~ B **

Paul and I still didn't know what was going to happen, and it had been a week since we had found out that Sam was very much alive. The threat of the unknown had us extremely nervous and walking around on egg shells. We were all right, but after that day, Paul had yet to conduct any form of Pack business, nor had he reached out to the Council.

I stayed with Leah for a day before returning home. When I did, it was as if nothing had happened. When I walked through the door my Mother merely nodded at me and I went to my room. At the time I was extremely upset, but I couldn't have expected much more. In some ways I imagine that it was better than us fighting again or something akin.

While I was able to deal with living back at home, Paul wasn't. It bothered him to no end that Renee hadn't apologized and that I was back to living there. But really, there was no alternative, it wasn't as though I could take up permanent residence with Leah or him.

We were currently at Paul's house just lounging, trying to relax. The key word in that phrase being trying. As I said, Paul and I were extremely anxious and that pretty much guaranteed that we wouldn't be able to relax at all.

We're just about to put on a movie when the phone rings. Paul grabs the nearby cordless phone and presses the talk button.

"Hello?"

Paul immediately stiffens and my stomach clenches nervously. Was it Sam?

"Yeah, we can do that. No. Not at your house. Neutral territory - the beach. Alone. Seven o'clock. Alright. Bye."

He hangs up, a snarl curling his lips. He growls, carelessly tossing the phone away. It lands on the carpeted floor with a dull thud.

"Sam?" I ask.

Paul nods his head, grunts out what I think is an affirmative.

"Well?" I prod.

"He wants to meet."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"Will you be safe?"

"Yeah. If not, I've proven that I can handle myself."

I nod but can't help but worry anyways. I knew that Paul could take Sam, he had shown everyone that. But that did little for me in that moment. I chew on the inside of my cheek trying to keep my emotions at bay. There was no use in worrying about something that hadn't happened yet.

"Hey," Paul says, grabbing my hand. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. All he wants is to talk; he isn't interested in a fight. He said so on the phone."

"Talk?"

"Talk." Paul parrots back.

Paul pulls me closer to him, tucking me into his side. "What do you think he wants?"

"I've no idea, baby-girl."

I sigh.

He squeezes my shoulder, "I'll find out soon enough, it's five. In two hours we're going to meet up."

I couldn't help but wonder if Paul was placing too much trust in Sam. What if Sam didn't come alone? Or what if he was really interested in reclaiming his title? What if he bombarded Paul? All these thoughts make my stomach clench painfully and my heart knock against my ribs.

"How can you be so calm about all of this?" I look at him, feeling a lump of worry lodge in my throat.

"Because there's no added value in being anything else, baby girl." Paul sighs, running a hand through my hair and down my back.

"I know - I just -" I try to say.

"Come here." Paul wraps an arm around my waist, drawing me onto his lap.

He gathers me in his strong arms and I nestle my head into the crook of his neck. I press my nose to the warm flesh there and inhale deeply, not caring for how creepy the act may have been.

I press a series of open mouthed kisses to the area as well, leading up to his ear. I press a final kiss just below it and whisper, "I love you."

"I love you." He responds and guides my face to his so he can kiss me.

We make for a while and return to watching the movie we had picked out. Before I knew it, it was six thirty and Paul was driving me home. The ride is silent but there is a touch of apprehension to the air. We pull up to my house and I make no move to leave the car. I didn't like the thought of Pau go off to meet Sam by himself, but I knew that Paul couldn't be convinced to bring me with him or at least to command a Pack member to stand by.

"I'll come to you right after." Paul says, grabbing my hand and giving it a firm squeeze.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

I try to smile but it comes out as a grimace. Leaning over I press a kiss to his lips, reveling in their heat. He returns the pressure, taking my lower lip between his. Our mouths meet again and again and sooner than I want to, I pull away.

"Be careful, Paul." I warn.

"When am I not?" He says cheekily.

I roll my eyes at him, smirking, "You know what I mean."

"I do. And I will be."

I get out of the car and walk up to my house. I glance back at him over my shoulder and watch as he drives off, towards the beach. His taillights are barely visible as I turn to go inside and I send out a silent wish, _please let him come back. _

**P ~ B**

It's nearing eight thirty when I really begin to worry. It didn't help that I was home alone, my parents both on business trips, as per usual. I had nothing but my thoughts to keep me busy and that wasn't good for me. I kept thinking up this awful scenarios, each one worse than the other.

Sam had only wanted to talk. What was taking so long?

I am just about ready to go to the beach when I hear the front door open. I get up from my position on the living room couch and walk to the foyer where Paul stood. I launch myself at him, squeezing him tight.

"Thank goodness!" I cry, holding him even tighter. "I was really starting to worry!"

Paul lets out a laugh, returning my boa constrictor-like embrace. He kisses the top of my head, "I told you not to worry."

I pull back slightly, "Like that was going to stop me."

"Come on, let's go sit." Paul says, walking into the living room.

He grabs a spot on the couch and I do the same, folding my legs under me. I turn to face him and raise my eyebrows. "What happened?"

"We made a deal, I'm no longer Alpha." Paul lets out a breath. "At first he wanted the title back, and he was even willing to make me Beta."

Paul rolls his eyes at that, snorting derisively.

"But?" I say.

"But I wasn't willing to go back how things were, even with an elevated position in the Pack. So I told him that he could be Alpha if I didn't have to be apart of the Pack. If I was left alone, to do whatever."

"And he accepted?"

"Yeah. I don't even have to Phase or anything. I can if I want but I don't have to."

I am quiet for a few moments. "And you're okay with this? You won't miss the Pack?"

"No." Paul says, barking out a harsh, mirthless laugh. "I was never meant for this. I never belonged with them or in that life."

I wrap my arms around him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Paul looks dazed.

"I'm finally free. I have my life back."

**A/N: **

**Again, so sorry for taking so long with this update. Hope y'all enjoyed it. **

**Thoughts? Feelings? Surprised by anything in this chapter?**

**Playlist: **

**Shake it Out - Florence and the Machine **

**Hysteric - Yeah Yeah Yeahs **

**I Will Wait - Mumford and Sons **

**You've Got the Love - Florence and the Machine **

**Push Your Head Towards the Air - The Editors**

**Until next time!**


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